Death Brings Clarity
by JK Philips
Summary: Post-“Gift” epic. Giles has a moment of clarity, but it’s too late. How he deals with Buffy’s death and how she comes back to him. For someone else understands his pain, a dark power who will not let this Slayer rest in her grave. BOOK ONE of DBC series.
1. He knows his heart too late

ORIGINALLY POSTED: June 19, 2001  
TITLE: Death Brings Clarity  
AUTHOR: JK Philips  
RATING: PG-13 (torture, swearing)  
SUMMARY: From "Spiral" to "The Gift" followed by my own attempt to put things right.  
Giles has a moment of clarity, but it's too late. How he deals with Buffy's death and how  
she comes back to him.  
SPOILERS: Everything up to "The Gift"  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon,  
Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.

* * *

Part 1: He knows his heart too late

He was dying. He knew from the moment they pulled him from the RV. But he also knew they wouldn't leave him behind. So for their sakes, for their safety, he struggled to put one foot in front of the other, Buffy and Xander taking his weight as they crawled towards the abandoned buildings a half-mile ahead.

Somehow he had made the distance and they were inside. He fell as Buffy released him, but another pair of hands took her place and were lifting him up. He landed on the hard surface with a jolt and cried out as the pain washed over him in waves. He clenched his jaw, his fists against it, tried to curl up around it. He could barely breathe and oh God, Angelus had nothing on this. Hands pressing on his side, he was shaking now, his breaths drawn in short shallow gasps.

_You're going into shock. Shock, unconsciousness, then death._

The cold, calculating voice in his head ticked off the sequence like an obscure prophecy read from ancient parchment. It was the Watcher's voice inside him. But no, not his voice. Someone else.

_They'll never get you to a hospital in time. Best die quick, Rupert, buddy, so your friends can get moving again._

He knew that voice. So close, right beside him, and the others so far away.

"We can't stay here. It's too close to the wreck. We're too easy to find," Buffy's voice drifted to him through miles of fog.

He wanted to stay with her, wanted to help her even if it was only to demand they go on without him, but the other voice was so much closer, so much louder, so much more insistent. _Some Watcher you are. The Slayer's bailing out your ass again, Rupert. I must say, I'm disappointed._

He was back at the mansion on Crawford Street, bound once again in his chair, Angelus circling him, circling, circling, circling, smiling. Giles closed his eyes. "This isn't real. I've put this behind me. I'm over this." But when he opened his eyes again, he still sat in that infernal chair in the room that had become his own personal hell. Angelus crouched before him nearly nose to nose.

"Then what are we doing here, you and I?" Angelus patted him amicably on the cheek, then as an afterthought punched him viciously in the side.

Giles doubled over as far as his bonds would allow him, his breath stopped by the white-hot agony inside him. He watched his own blood drip onto the gray cement floor beneath him and struggled to remember why he was bleeding, why there was an ever-increasing circle of red sticking his shirt to his left side. Angelus had never cut him. Bruised, broken, but never bled. Angelus had needed him alive.

Giles' body screamed for air, and he drew in great shuddering breaths, each reawakening the fire in his belly.

Angelus stood behind him now, his hands digging into Giles' shoulders, pulling him upright against the back of the chair. "Don't wimp out on me, Rupert. Last time you held out for hours before you gave it up." He ducked down low, spoke into Giles' ear. "Let's see if you can set a new record."

"I won't tell you ... about the ritual," he managed through clenched teeth. "I won't tell you how to wake Acathla."

"Now, Rupert, let's get on the same page. This isn't about Acathla. You already traded that secret for Jenny's kiss. Remember? Or have you been hit on the head a few too many times?" Angelus laughed and illustrated his point with a blow that sent Giles' chin knocking into his chest. "There's some other secret buried in that head of yours. A much bigger secret."

Cool undead hands caressed his palms, and Giles tensed against the touch. Not the fingers. Not again. He remembered not just the pain of their breaking, not just the hours of Angelus' cruel play, but also the months after when they refused to hold a pen just so, when they spasmed in protest of the slightest weight he forced them to bear. _Not the fingers._

"I wonder why you never told her, never told any of them? Never told her it was your fault she had to send me to hell? Never told her you'd betrayed her for one last moment with your gypsy bitch." Angelus circled his fist around Giles' pinky.

Giles felt the shame burn his cheeks. Weak, he'd been so weak. "Sod off, you pillock."

Crack went the first finger, and Angelus moved his attentions to the next. "Wrong answer. Moving on. So I came back from Hell, and she never told you. You hated her for it, didn't you?"

Giles blinked back tears and focused. How had he managed before? Ah, yes. There it was. The hairline crack that traced an uneven path across the opposite wall. _Follow it with your eyes. Loose yourself in it. Shelving books in the library. A. "Alchemists through the 12th Century." by... by..._ He couldn't remember.

"Asked you a question. You hated her for not 'fessing up." Angelus twisted the ring finger, near breaking but not quite.

"Yes!" Giles dug his right foot into the floor, trying to maintain control over his rising panic. His left foot was growing numb as the blood continued to drip, drip onto the cement. "Yes, I hated her for it! What do you bloody want from me?"

Angelus' grip on his finger relaxed, and he stroked it almost tenderly. "Only the truth. You can lie to yourself, but in the end you won't be able to lie to me. Although," he paused thoughtfully, "I guess I kinda am you, since this is probably all some sort of delirious near death experience you got cooking up in your head. Huh. Bet you thought there'd be lights or tunnels or... or angels." He snickered and poked Giles in one shoulder. "Get it? Angels?" The vampire sighed. "Anyway, I've gotten off topic. You hated Buffy for not telling you. Some kind of Watcher/Slayer breach of trust, Rupert?"

"Yes. I couldn't very well do my job if..."

Crack. The second finger caught him unprepared and his half swallowed scream sounded loud in his own ears. _B. Bradley, Richard. "A Treatise on Demon Mythology vs. Fact."_

"So I show up on your doorstep on Christmas Eve of all days. You think: 'Gee, just pull the trigger of this crossbow and dust Angel right here. What better Christmas present could I get?' But you don't. Can't say as though you were motivated by any warm fuzzy feelings for me. So what did hold you back?"

"Buffy..."

Angelus leaned in mere inches from his captive's neck. Giles could feel his cool breath across his skin and shuddered. "Getting warmer, Rupert. Pray continue. Buffy?"

"You had been a useful ally for the Slayer..."

Crack. The middle finger snapped like a twig. Giles groaned. _C. Countermeasures against Ecothsian Seduction Spells. by... by Roverson, James._ It wasn't working. The pain was everywhere, and he couldn't push it out of his mind, couldn't escape far enough into himself or outside himself. He was panting, each exhale a soft moan.

"Am I going to have to break all your fingers? The test, Rupert, the test on her birthday. Any other Watchers ever fail it before?"

"No."

"But you told her everything, threw it all away, and for what?"

"Travers said..."

Angelus bent back the first finger until Giles felt he would rip it right off his hand. "Funny, I don't give a damn what Travers said. Why'd you go against the Council?"

"Buffy would have died," he said quickly, trying to stave off further pain.

The pressure on his finger eased. "Yeah, so one dies, another is called. Isn't that the point of the test? Weed out the weaker Slayers?"

"Buffy is the greatest Slayer the Council has ever had. The world needs her."

Crack. Crack. His first finger snapped in two places. He closed his eyes to stop the hot tears that now trailed down his cheeks. _D. Devin, Thomas. Vampire Feeding Patterns in Greater Metropolitan Districts._ Why couldn't Angelus just kill him and be done with it?

"For a smart educated man, Rupert, buddy, you are way slow on the self-realization. So you weren't her Watcher anymore. Buffy's off in college and too busy with her Captain All-American to give a second thought to you. What possible reason could you have had to stay in Sunnydale?"

"Because I couldn't abandon her."

Angelus' fingers trailed up and down Giles' thumb. "And why not?"

Giles shook from the pain, up and down his arm, through his side. A small puddle of blood had formed beneath his chair, and it reflected back to him his own haggard face. How much more could he take? And what would happen when he couldn't take anymore? What was the secret that couldn't be spoken aloud? Only Angelus seemed to know. And if he knew, then dammit what was the point of torture? "I could never live with myself if something happened to her, something I could have stopped."

"And why not?"

"No matter what the Council says, she's still my Slayer."

Crack. The thumb went too, and Giles was too tired to hold back his cry. Hot tears trailed into his mouth, and he swallowed salt and bitter shame. _E. Everret, Marcus. "Anthology of Hibernating Demons."_

"And then her mother died, and you went above and beyond the call of duty. Funeral arrangements, paperwork, the final estate. That fall under a Watcher's duty?"

"No."

Angelus began massaging the fingers of Giles' other hand. "Tell me why," he said as he squeezed them 'til they hurt, 'til they throbbed with the rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Because... because..." Giles gasped as Angelus' grip tightened. A little more and the bones in his palm would snap. "Because... I love her! Because I couldn't help but fall in love with her as I watched her become everything I always wanted."

His body shook, not just with pain, but with sobs that welled up as he heard himself voice the very thing he hadn't even allowed himself to think. Always with Buffy he had seen the girl. If he saw her as a child, a girl, he was safe from these thoughts. But he knew now that she had never been a child, a girl, not even when he had first met her. A year of slaying had burned the innocence out of her, had aged her, and she had come to him a woman in a girl's body. And he had loved her for years without realizing it, deceived by her youth.

Now she was 20, less than half his age on paper perhaps, but in her soul she was his equal if not his elder. He could never go back, could no longer see her as the girl. She was a woman in his eyes and his heart now, and he loved her.

Angelus circled around in front of him, knelt so they were eye to eye. He grinned as he brushed tears from Giles' cheeks. "You know that she'll never love you. She'll never look at you like she looks at me."

"I know."

A hand on the back of his head, and Angelus pulled him forward until their foreheads were touching. "And that, Rupert, buddy, is better than any torture I could ever devise." The vampire stood abruptly and ruffled Giles' hair as he laughed. "Close your eyes. Dream of Buffy. But you'll always wake alone."

Giles did close his eyes and allowed his head to dip forward onto his chest. He was so tired, and the pain in his side drained his energy with each passing moment. He could almost hear the blood dripping onto the floor.

So he closed his eyes, felt her hand in his, and knew he was dreaming.

But when he opened his eyes, she wasn't a dream. She was standing over him, holding tight to his hand, her eyes shining with tears. His golden angel, his beautiful slayer. He remembered now the RV, the spear, the crash. He wasn't afraid to die, having finally admitted to himself the true depth of his love for her, knowing that in death he would be free to love her with everything he was. He managed a smile for her, and her lips trembled.

"I'm sorry."

He swallowed hard. God, the pain was intense and unrelenting. _Just a few moments more, Giles old man, a few moments more. You owe her that._ "For what?" His voice rattled in his own ears, the barest whisper, shaking with his barely disguised suffering.

"We should have stayed. If we had, none of this would have happened."

"Don't. What you did..." His face twisted up in agony, and he grasped her hand tighter. He fought to control his breathing, bite back his pain. A few moments more, a few moments more. It became his mantra. He couldn't leave her with the guilt of his death. He couldn't have peace at the expense of hers. She had to know. "...was necessary. What I've always admired."

"Running away?" Her smile was forced and sorrowful. He rewarded her with a genuine smile of his own, filled with the love he only recently realized, a love that time would not allow him to express.

He steadied his breathing, drew air from the top of his lungs, slow careful breaths that would allow him to finish what she needed to hear. "Being able to place your heart above all else. I'm so proud of you. You've come so far. You're everything a Watcher..." He closed his eyes and paused. Not just a Watcher. It was Rupert Giles the man that loved her. But he could only hold on for moments more and there wasn't time. He opened his eyes again and focused on her, memorizing every detail of her face, the depths of her blue eyes. "Everything I could have hoped for."

She smiled true this time, a smile that touched her eyes and reflected her heart and her love, and Giles felt peace. He sighed, closed his eyes, and let the darkness claim him.

* * *

It was Xander's voice he heard first.

"I gotta agree with Spike on this one, which is probably a sure sign of the apocalypse."

But it wasn't time for Xander to be here yet. Jenny hadn't come. He hadn't given up the secret to Acathla. He stirred, then groaned at the dull ache in his side. He forced his eyes open to see the water stained ceiling above.

"Hey, Giles is waking up." Anya's voice and then she was in his field of vision, leaning over him. "How are you feeling?"

He swallowed. "Like I was run through with a spear."

"But you're not dead. That's a good thing."

Her enthusiasm was less than contagious. "Yes, I'm somewhat surprised by that fact as well. What happened?" He blinked rapidly, trying to bring Anya's face into focus.

"Buffy's friend Ben, the doctor, he came and fixed you." Anya patted his hand and smiled brightly.

Giles turned his head to see past Anya. The counter beneath him seemed to spin, and he clutched quickly at the edge so as not to fall off. The movement should have cost him dearly, but he felt only a slight twinge in his side and that steady, dull ache. _Thank god for pharmaceuticals._

His eyes took in his surroundings for the first time. Greasy, cement floor and ceiling, boarded up windows. He seemed to be lying on the front counter of an old gas station convenience store. Xander and Willow stood just behind Anya, alternately watching him and stealing glances off to their left. He shivered as he registered their lost, stricken expressions. He feared to even ask the question. "Buffy?"

Willow approached, placing her hand gently on his calf. "We don't know exactly how it happened, but Glory was here, and she took Dawn."

Giles closed his eyes, hoping that this too was part of his near-death delirium. He licked his lips and asked again. "Buffy?"

They all glanced over to their left again, past the edge of the counter, past his field of vision. Willow's forehead furrowed as various thoughts crossed her mind. She shrugged. "She hasn't moved or spoken. I don't think she even knows we're here."

"What?" He tried to sit, but failed miserably. "Help me up."

Anya slipped her hands under his shoulders and leveraged him up enough to see across the room. Buffy sat stone still in her chair, her eyes, God, her eyes stared at nothing, hollow and empty. Unbidden, Jenny's image flashed through his mind as she had lain in his bed that night, that same empty expression in her dead eyes. But, no, Buffy wasn't dead. She wasn't dead.

Later, if he were to look back in hindsight at this moment, he would say that this was The Moment the ground fell out from under him. What happened in the coming days could only be described as the slow tumble to eventual bottom. But this was The Moment that took Buffy forever out of his reach.

* * *

Giles polished his glasses for only the fifth time in as many minutes, as if that could somehow change the words in front of him.

Xander and even Spike had both hovered over him the last two hours, fetching books and tea and anything else he required so he would need to move as little as possible. Neither one of them had any idea that Giles had finished translating the ancient text they had brought him. In fact, he had fully translated it three times by now, using different sources and different references, but each time the basic meaning was the same.

He felt sick, nauseous, and not just from the blood loss or his pain medication slowly wearing off. The implications of his translation left him wishing he had died back at the gas station.

_"Buffy's friend Ben, the doctor, he came and fixed you."_ Now that he could remember Ben and Glory's shared identity for more than two minutes, he wished he could forget. This was all his fault. If only he had used those last moments with Buffy to urge her to leave him behind, to take Dawn and the others and keep moving, Glory would have never caught them in time. The text in front of him spelled out the exact time for the ritual. If Buffy had left him behind, Glory would never have found them before her window of opportunity closed forever. But no, he had thought he was dying, he had thought those would be his last words. Selfishly, he had wanted to die in the arms of the woman he loved, wanted to pour out his heart to her, and failing that, he at least wanted to spend his last breath comforting her.

Those words had obviously not comforted as intended, but rather spurred her to take action to save his life. Now because he lived, Dawn would die. And Buffy would hate him for it.

He read the lines again. He had cross-referenced from ten different sources; he had double-checked the definitions of even the most common words used in the text. They had their solution, their way to close the portal. As a Watcher, he had to set aside his personal feelings and take whatever action was needed to save the world. No matter that Buffy would hate him for even asking it of her.

He slipped his glasses off and tossed them to the center of the table, rubbing his hands over his weary eyes.

"Hey, Giles, I know I'm not Research-Guy, but maybe if you point me to the right book, I could help out. You know, if it's in English."

"No need, Xander," Giles sighed, "I've already finished the translation. Now we just hope Willow can get through to Buffy."

Giles stood cautiously, waving off Xander's solicitous attempt at support and stepping gingerly towards the teapot. One hand unconsciously slipped to cradle his injured side as his mind churned with the various reactions he was likely to get from Buffy. None of them were particularly good. That was that, then. He would tell his Slayer that she must kill her sister to save the world, and she would hate him. No necessity to ever tell her how he felt, no hope his newly discovered love would ever be requited.

He supposed it was only fitting. Duty had brought them together, and now duty would tear them apart.

* * *

_Giles, I'm sixteen years old. I don't wanna die._

It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was supposed to be different from the others.

_I realize that every Slayer comes with an expiration mark on the package. But I want mine to be a long time from now._

She looked so peaceful. He always imagined that Slayers (the others, not Buffy, he never pictured her like this, no, only the others that came before) imagined that they should look angry, outraged and fighting their death to the last moment.

He approached on unsteady feet. She looked serene.

_I don't understand. I don't know how to live in this world, if these are the choices, if everything just gets stripped away, I don't see the point._

What was the point? If he gave everything he had, and it still wasn't enough? If all of his knowledge, all of his training wasn't enough to save her? What was the point of a fucking Watcher's Council except to watch each woman die before she'd had the chance to live?

_The spirit guide told me that Death is my gift._

Death was his curse. Randall. Thomas. Philip. Dierdre. Kendra. Jenny. Buffy. Their blood on his hands. He should have been able to save them. He should have been able to save _her._

He stretched one trembling hand towards her. No pulse. No breath. His Slayer was dead.

* * *

Giles sat in the smooth leather chair and waited for the man on the other side of the mahogany desk to hang up the phone. His eyes wandered over the certificates lining the walls, the legal volumes on the shelves, coming to rest on the empty chair beside him. The last time he had been in this office Buffy had sat in that chair. He had come with her to settle her mother's estate. Now scant months later, he was here to settle hers.

"Terribly sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Giles."

"Hmmm?" He brought his attention back to the lawyer standing in front of him, shaking the proffered hand and watching as Mr. Thomas Stockwell strode across his office to pull some files from his cabinet. This man had been a friend of Joyce's, had handled her legal affairs and those of the gallery. Giles imagined he must have also handled her divorce, but he'd never had the nerve to ask. He'd only met the man the one time, when settling Joyce's estate. Stockwell had spoken of her fondly, mentioned meeting her at a benefit Hank's office had hosted in L.A.

"I'm sorry we have to keep meeting under such circumstances. It's a tragedy about Buffy. She seemed like such a bright young girl."

Giles only nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Mr. Stockwell sat on his side of the desk and began pulling papers from the thick file in front of him. A pensive expression creased his round face, and Giles wondered if the man was thinking of Joyce. "It's only been three months, so the Summers' finances haven't changed much since you last went over these papers with me. We'll skip the details, and you can look over the file later at your leisure." Stockwell waited patiently for Giles to nod his assent. "There is a sizeable sum remaining from the sale of the gallery and Mrs. Summer's life insurance policy. Buffy's will stipulates that this money is placed in a trust fund until Dawn's 20th birthday. She has named you as Dawn's legal guardian." Stockwell paused as he noticed Giles' frown.

"What about the girls' father?"

The lawyer tapped his pen on the desktop and smoothed his tie over his expansive waistline, using the moment to try and read the older man's expression. "Buffy and I discussed this at length when I drafted her will last month. I'm sorry. I assumed you were a part of her decision." He waited, but Giles made no effort to fill the silence, so Stockwell continued. "Apparently their father has played little role in their life these last few years. To be frank, sir, the man could not be bothered to return to Sunnydale after their mother's death, even after they finally tracked him down. Can I ask? Have you been able to inform him of Buffy's death?"

Giles pulled off his glasses and polished them a bit more forcefully than necessary. "His office informs me he's at an extended business function in Italy. It didn't seem like the sort of news I should ask a secretary to pass along. I did press upon them the urgency of the matter."

"But he hasn't returned any of your calls."

It wasn't a question, and Giles only shook his head bitterly, then slipped his glasses back on.

Stockwell sighed and forged ahead. "In either case, Buffy was adamant in her preference that Dawn remain in your care. If this is also your wish, then I'll need your signature on some forms." Giles reached across the desk for the papers he was offered. "The first is a basic form, simply stating that you accept responsibility as Dawn's legal guardian. The second is a motion I'll file with the court to have Mr. Summer's parental rights terminated for abandonment."

Giles looked up sharply, his pen poised over the first form. "Is that necessary?"

"He would have a limited amount of time to contest it before his rights terminated and you became Dawn's permanent guardian. I can't promise that the court wouldn't overturn the judgment should he return at a later date, but it would at least give you a leg to stand on if you wanted to fight him for custody."

Giles closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand as the pen in his other hand hovered over the papers before him. God, he'd never really even met the man. Just the fake Hank who had shown up all those years ago when everyone's nightmares were bleeding into reality. Despite his workaholic tendencies, Buffy and Dawn had both loved him. He, Giles, had already stolen his oldest daughter, gotten her killed in her slaying duties. Could he steal this man's youngest daughter too? "If Dawn changes her mind... That is to say if she would rather be with her father, this could be reversed?"

"Of course."

Giles sighed and signed the papers quickly, shoving them back across the desk before he could reconsider.

Stockwell gathered them neatly and slipped them back into the file. "Just a few more papers, Mr. Giles. Now the house has been left to you in your name." At the man's startled expression, he continued quickly. "Buffy wanted to make sure you had the freedom to move quickly if need be. I didn't really ask why that was such an urgent concern. Also, as Dawn's guardian, you will be able to draw from her trust fund to pay for her expenses. All that will require is an itemized report submitted annually. I'm sure your store accountant can take care of that."

He passed these papers to Giles as well. He signed the deed for the house without a second thought, but he passed the authorizations for Dawn's trust fund back unsigned. "I won't need Dawn's money. I can provide for her just fine, Mr. Stockwell."

"Mr. Giles, you do realize that you'll only be drawing off the interest. It's highly unlikely you would need to touch the principal."

Giles's face set in stone, and he leaned forward over the desk. "I don't need Dawn's money."

Stockwell quailed under Ripper's gaze, and Giles regretted being so harsh. The lawyer gathered the papers all together quickly, obviously still flustered. "One last thing, Mr. Giles." Two envelopes, one with his name, one with Dawn's. "Buffy wrote these for each of you to read in the event of her death."

Giles made no effort to take them. He was not expecting a letter. He had come to the lawyer's office prepared for tedious and necessary paperwork. Dry, professional routine. He had not expected to feel her presence in this office. And now these letters, touched with her hands, filled with her final words to him, they caught him off guard and slipped past his defenses, reminding him all the more of her absence by the fleeting sense of her presence.

"Mr. Giles?"

He didn't remember reaching for them, only that they were now in his hand, the thin envelopes fluttering as his hands shook. He slipped the letters into his inside jacket pocket quickly, hopefully before Stockwell could notice his distress.

"Thank you, sir." Giles voice was rough with emotion. "Is there anything else?"

"No, I'll call you back to the office after the motion passes. My secretary will send you copies of everything we handled today." Both men stood as one, awkwardly shaking hands and shuffling towards the door. The lawyer felt compelled to ask: "The funeral is this afternoon?"

"Yes, three o'clock at Restfield Cemetery. There's a wake following the service at... at..." Giles floundered, unsure what to call the house on Revello Drive. Not Joyce's, not Buffy's, he couldn't think of it as his. "At the house. You're welcome to attend."

Stockwell nodded and stared at his shoes. "I'll see if my secretary can't clear some time this afternoon. I was awfully fond of Joyce's family. I remember when the girls were just kids, you know?" He shook his head and met Giles' gaze again. "Let me know if there's ever anything I can do for you or Dawn?"

Giles nodded and walked out of the office, one hand sneaking up to feel for the letters in his front jacket pocket.

Next: Part 2: The Funeral


	2. The Funeral

ORIGINALLY POSTED: June 19, 2001  
TITLE: Death Brings Clarity  
AUTHOR: JK Philips  
RATING: PG (angst-fest)  
SUMMARY: From "Spiral" to "The Gift" followed by my own attempt to put things right.  
Giles has a moment of clarity, but it's too late. How he deals with Buffy's death and how  
she comes back to him.  
SPOILERS: Everything up to "The Gift"  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon,  
Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.

* * *

Part 2: The Funeral

Dawn stood alone. Willow leaned on Tara, sobbing brokenly. Xander white knuckled Anya's wheelchair, perhaps not even aware of the tears streaming down his own face. Various friends of Buffy and Joyce stood in small clusters around the open grave. But Dawn stood alone, her shoulders shaking as she cried.

Giles stepped beside the girl to fill the space that Joyce and Buffy had left. Dawn curled into his gentle touch and wept desperately against his chest. But for Giles, the tears would not come.

_Beloved sister, Devoted friend  
She saved the world  
A lot_

Dawn had insisted on adding the last. The simplicity of a 14-year-old girl. It amused him to wonder what strangers would think of Buffy's gravestone when they passed by a hundred years from now.

The service finished in a blur, and now came the condolences, the soft words of sympathy given to Dawn, to him, to Xander and Willow and Anya and Tara. They were her family. After a short time, they were the only ones left beside the grave, each at a loss as what to say to the others.

"Xander, I don't want to be here anymore. Can we go?" Anya, as usual, breaking the silence with her blunt statement.

"Yeah, sure. Meet you guys back at the house?"

The group nodded solemnly, and Xander turned the wheelchair towards the parking lot. The two witches followed, Tara pausing to ask Dawn, "You want to ride with us?"

Giles shook his head and answered. "I'll drive her. We'll see you there in a little while." He watched Dawn for a moment. She had drawn apart from him and wrapped her arms around herself, her shoulders still shaking. She startled when he touched her. "We can go whenever you're ready."

"Yeah, time for depressing pot luck and Aunt Ellen's pink Jell-O goo."

"Goo?"

"Don't even ask what's in it. Just put some on your plate and you can dump it in the trash when no one's looking."

Giles glanced back as they left the cemetery, longing for the chance to say his private goodbyes to Buffy. He knew there would be all the time in the world for that. At this moment he needed to watch over her sister and her friends. It was what she would have expected of him.

He sat in his red BMW for several minutes, not even putting the keys in the ignition, before Dawn turned to him and sighed.

"We'd get there a lot faster if you actually started the car." It was meant to be cute sarcasm, but neither of them laughed.

"Dawn, I was at the lawyer's today. We need to talk." He met her eyes. Her tears had stopped for the moment, and she simply waited for him to continue. "I'm to be your guardian now. That is... that is if you want me to be."

"What about my Dad?"

Giles whipped out a handkerchief and polished his glasses. He knew they were clean. It was only nervous habit, his way of avoiding meeting her gaze. "He's still in Italy on business. I'm sure once we're able to get a hold of him..." He trailed off, unwilling to offer the girl empty promises. How could he know whether the man would want his 14-year old daughter suddenly thrust back into his daily life after 6 years of occasional phone calls and summer visits? "I know he's living in Spain, now, but he might move back to LA or take you back to Spain with him or..."

Dawn interrupted, saving him from needing to say more. "No, no, it's ok. I mean, I want to visit him and stuff. But Dad was never good at the sticking around part, you know? You... you always stuck around for Buffy." Her eyes grew wide. "Unless... well Buffy was your Slayer, and I'm not, so maybe you don't wanna..."

"Shhh." Giles laid one hand over hers as he slipped his glasses back on. "If this is what you want, then I'll be happy to have you." He squeezed her hand slightly as he said it, then turned back and started the car. "We better hurry back before someone finishes all of Aunt Ellen's 'goo.' "

"Giles?"

"Yes?"

"Can we put the top down?"

"Of course." He reached for the control, but her finger beat him to it.

"Buffy always liked to ride in your car with the top down."

"Hmm... I rather thought she didn't. She always complained about the wind messing her hair."

"Yeah, well, she didn't always tell you everything."

Dawn fiddled with the radio until she found something that Giles knew would give him a headache if they had to drive more than five minutes. But since they didn't, he let her pick the station and remembered fondly the arguments he'd had with Buffy over her exercise music.

* * *

Giles parked himself on the couch, holding a glass of punch he never drank. Willow had taken over the role of hostess from one of Joyce's gallery friends, and Giles was grateful not to have to put up a brave front and make small talk with people he barely knew.

Anya pulled her wheelchair alongside him, mostly because it was one of the few places she wouldn't be in anyone's way. "Who are all these people?"

Giles shrugged. "Some of Joyce's friends, some of Buffy's friends from school, some of Dawn's. I really don't recognize many of them." He glanced over at the ex-demon. "How are you feeling?"

"Sad that Buffy's dead. Sad that Xander is hurting so badly, and I can't make it better. Guilty that a part of me is happy that it was Buffy and not Xander."

"Those are all normal reactions, Anya, but I meant how are you feeling, physically?"

"Oh, yes, well, the doctor says I'm getting better. I should be using crutches next week." A moment, then, "What are crutches?"

He was saved from further conversation when Xander returned with a tray of food and punch for both he and Anya. Tara and Dawn joined them a moment later, everyone eating in awkward silence. Giles swirled the punch in his glass, wishing it were Scotch, and not feeling particularly hungry.

Within a few hours, the house had emptied of all but the Scooby gang, comfortably arranged around the Summers' living room. The mournful silence soon gave way to recollections of their time with Buffy, stories that sometimes even brought the sound of laughter back into the house. Giles' pain medication was wearing off, but he was too tired to go to the car and fetch it. So he just let his side ache for the time being, as he closed his eyes and let their voices and occasional laughter wash over him. He could almost imagine they were back in the Library or in the Magic Box, almost imagine that he would hear Buffy's voice at any moment.

And then, as it became dark, the conversation lapsed back into silence. Dawn brought him his painkillers without being asked. If she could tell so easily that he needed them, then he would take them without argument. They must have made his head fuzzy, because when Willow finally broke the long silence, she made absolutely no sense.

"Sitting in a Paris café. Buffy's trying to order in French, but ends up insulting the waiter's mother."

Xander shook his head. "And the award for most random comment of the day goes to..."

"Anywhere But Here, Xander."

"Oh," he said flatly, then "Oh!" with more understanding. "I can top that. We're playing sand volleyball on the beach, and we're totally kicking ass 'cause Buffy's the Slayer, which completely makes up for Willow's lame 'I can't even get it over the net' bunts. For the final round we're playing against like ten Swedish..."

"Xander!" Willow swatted him on the arm and rolled her eyes. "At least it's better than Amy Yip at the waterslide park."

"What can I say? My tastes have matured."

Dawn plopped down on the sofa next to Giles, coming dangerously close to knocking his drink in his lap. "If you two could come back from your own little world, maybe you could clue us in to what you're talking about?"

"Yes," Anya shifted in the wheelchair. "I'd like to know who this Amy Yip is and why you were at the waterpark with her."

"I wasn't."

"It's a game that Buffy, Xander, and I used to play in high school," Willow supplied helpfully. "If you could be Anywhere But Here, where would you be? I guess I just thought of it when I was wishing I was, well, anywhere but here."

The room was silent again.

"I would be home having sex with Xander." Anya looked at the somber faces around her. "Oh, are we done playing that game?"

A knock at the door prevented any response. Dawn jumped up to answer it, and Giles admonished her, "It's after dark now. Don't specifically invite anyone in."

"I know, I know. I've lived here for how long?" She opened the door, and apparently recognizing the visitors, opened the door wider and stepped aside. As Cordelia and Wesley entered, Dawn threw Giles a glare and asked, "Angel's here too. Am I allowed to invite him in?"

Xander spoke up. "Yeah, I guess Deadboy can come in." He stepped over to the threesome. Wesley shook his hand awkwardly, but Cordelia simply threw herself in his arms and started crying.

"Oh, God, it's just awful."

Xander patted her on the back and led her to join the group in the living room. Wesley followed, seating himself next to Giles, but Angel hung back in the foyer, lounging against the wall and staring at nothing.

Cordelia continued to lean on Xander, sniffling and wiping her tears. "I just keep thinking maybe if I hadn't been in Pylea, maybe I would have got a vision or something. I mean they sent Doyle a vision when that Indian was mad at all the Pilgrims or whatever. Buffy was only in danger then. They would have sent me a vision if she was going to die, wouldn't they?"

Willow was up and moving towards the kitchen to play hostess. "Can I get you guys anything?"

"God, yes, I'm famished. We tried to leave LA sooner, but I had this vision, and we had to make a quick trip down the sewers, and then a quick trip to the showers. When we finally got to leave, Angel wouldn't stop for anything. I guess he forgets that the living have to eat."

Willow nodded. "Wesley?"

"Just whatever you have is fine."

Willow snagged Angel on her way to the kitchen. Giles imagined she wanted to offer Angel a shoulder to cry on. He didn't really care. There were enough people here that he hopefully wouldn't have to deal with the vampire. He had thought he was over the pain Angelus had caused him, but his experience at the gas station made it clear he was not. And now, looking at Angel only reminded him of what he would never have with Buffy.

A touch on his arm drew his attention to the ex-Watcher beside him. "How are you holding up?" Wesley whispered, although in the quiet room it wasn't as though they couldn't be overheard.

Giles swirled his still untouched punch for a moment. "She was truly the finest there ever was."

Wesley nodded and let that statement stand before he broached the next topic. "Does the Council think there will be a new slayer?"

Giles crossed his legs cautiously, still careful not to jostle his injured side more than necessary. "They aren't sure. This is the first recorded instance of two slayers at any one time. Perhaps another will be Called. Perhaps Buffy already Called her replacement in Kendra. If that's the case, then Faith is the Chosen One now."

"A role that will be hard to fill in jail." Watcher and ex-Watcher both fell silent. A world with no Slayer could end very quickly.

Giles glanced out the window. It had been dark for a couple hours now. Less than five days since Buffy had died, less than five days since the portal between dimensions had briefly opened, but already it seemed like an eternity. It would be a month or more before they cleaned out all the creatures that had slipped through into their dimension. The Watcher's Council would have to send a special ops team to kill the dragon that had holed up in some of the Initiative caverns outside of town. There was no way in hell Giles would send his charges on a suicide mission after it. It was bad enough to send them on patrol every night, while he could only wait for their check-in call and imagine the worst.

The first night he had tried to go with them, had gotten in quite a heated argument with Xander over it. After all, he had gone with them to fight Glory, hadn't he? In the end, Xander had finished the discussion with a not so gentle jab in Giles' side that had brought him to his knees.

"See?" Xander had said. "You're in no shape to fight anything. And you're liable to get one of us killed trying to look out for you."

Who would have thought five years ago that Xander would become the voice of reason?

"Time for patrol?" Xander's question brought Giles back to the present, and the others quickly divided out the evening's assignments, the added LA contingent allowing them to patrol in two groups.

Commenting on her need to have sustenance before slaying the undead, Cordelia left to retrieve both food and the missing Willow and Angel, who hadn't yet returned from the kitchen.

Anya smiled sweetly at her boyfriend. "I am unthreatened by your attempts to comfort your ex-girlfriend. I know you want to marry me and not her."

That was a bombshell that delayed patrol another hour.

* * *

Finally alone: the others gone to patrol, the newly-engaged Anya taken home on the way, and Dawn upstairs in her room, for once not staying at Xander's or Willow's. Giles slipped the letters from his jacket pocket and set Dawn's on the coffee table with his drink. He should have eaten something earlier, because now his hands were shaking. Must be low blood sugar, or perhaps the medication.

He hesitated before slipping his finger beneath the envelope's flap and instead glanced towards Joyce's well-stocked liquor cabinet. In the last five days he had been too busy with the things that had to be done to even think of a drink. Now tonight was his first night spent in Buffy's house, a place that he would have to make his home, a place filled with her things, her scent, her life. How could he open her front door everyday and not see her? But this was Dawn's home too, and she had already been through enough. He couldn't ask her to move. This would simply have to be the first of many nights in Buffy's house, and he would just have to deal with it.

One drink couldn't hurt anything.

Giles sat at the dining room table, his fingers tracing the letters of his name across the envelope. He poured himself a generous helping of Scotch and downed half of it in one swig, grimacing as it burned the back of his throat. He opened her letter and read.

_Dear Giles,_

_If you're reading this, it means I must have died. Isn't that how these letters are supposed to start? I don't know, I've never written one. You think I would have, having the life expectancy of a Slayer, but I guess I never needed to worry about the people I leave behind._

_Now that Mom's gone, I'm all Dawn has, so I have to think about those things. I have to think about who'll take care of her now. God knows Hank Summers proved himself Father of the Year when Mom died. Well, even before that, really. You're the only one I can trust Dawn to. I know you'll take care of her like you always took care of me. And not just 'cause she's the Key or 'cause there's a god after her, but because she's Dawn and she's my sister. I know you'll make her go to her classes, do her homework, eat her dinner before dessert, and never let her leave the house in any of those short, skin-tight outfits Mom actually let me wear to high school. Oh, and when boys come to take her out on dates, you have to give them that "Ripper" glare, and if you happened to leave a crossbow or a sword lying around where they could see it, I wouldn't hate that either. Mostly I know you'll love her, because you always loved me._

_And now, if I know you, you're trying to be all British stiff-upper-lipped and trying not to cry. I only saw you cry the once, after Jenny died. You don't have to go through this alone. Willow and Xander are grown-ups now, too. Don't be afraid to lean on them, to let them help you._

_Mostly, I know you're blaming yourself. Don't try to deny it, Giles, I know you. I obviously have no idea how I actually died, but it doesn't matter. I'm sure you've found some way to blame yourself, oh Watcher-mine. Listen very carefully to me, Giles: IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT! If anything, you have kept me alive this long. You have been the best Watcher and the best friend I could have asked for. I never would have made it this far without you._

_Take care of yourself and take care of my sister. I love you._

_Buffy_

Giles wasn't sure when the tears had started, only that his face was now wet. The glass in his hand was empty, and he didn't remember when he had finished that either. He refilled it and walked to the window. He had buried Buffy today. It finally felt real to him, and he slid down the wall to his knees, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed. The full glass of Scotch tipped from his hand, spilling across the wood floor and rolling under the table.

"Giles?"

Dawn stood in the archway. He turned his face away from her, quickly wiping his tears on his sleeve. "I thought you were asleep. Is there something you needed?"

"No, don't. Just don't." Her voice broke, and Giles realized she was crying too. "When Mom died, Buffy tried to be all strong and stuff. You know, like if I saw her fall apart I wouldn't be able to handle it or something. It just made it worse, like she didn't care that Mom had died."

He felt Dawn's arms circle his neck. "It makes me feel better to see you cry, like I'm not the only one who had their heart ripped out when she left."

The last of his self-control slipped away, and he couldn't contain the sobs that now wracked his body, could only wrap his arms around Dawn as she, too, broke. For the first time in five days, he wept for Buffy, for his Slayer, for the love of his life.

* * *

Buffy watched them. She couldn't touch them, couldn't speak to them. She could only watch as they mourned her.

Next: Part 3: The Daughter Test


	3. The Daughter Test

ORIGINALLY POSTED: June 19, 2001  
TITLE: Death Brings Clarity  
AUTHOR: JK Philips  
RATING: PG (angst)  
SUMMARY: From "Spiral" to "The Gift" followed by my own attempt to put things right.  
Giles has a moment of clarity, but it's too late. How he deals with Buffy's death and how  
she comes back to him.  
SPOILERS: Everything up to "The Gift"  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon,  
Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.

* * *

Part 3: The Daughter Test

She remembered the pain as she fell through the vortex. She remembered the light and the voices fading in and out around her. She remembered the warmth and security of her mother's arms. She remembered calling for Dawn. _Please, please, I just have to know she's okay._

Just like that the light vanished.

The first few days of her ghostly existence drifted by in indistinct images and disjointed thoughts, which danced just beyond her ability to focus. Exactly as a grown man hardly recalls his newborn efforts to control his mortal shell, so Buffy had no memory of learning to exist without hers.

So when she realized finally that she was standing in her own kitchen, she had no idea how much time had passed, only that she needed to find Dawn _now_. She sprinted through the dining room and ran straight _through_ Xander. Buffy fell to her knees, the sensory overload of passing through living tissue nearly shattering her tenuous hold on her non-corporeal consciousness. Xander merely shivered and closed a window before continuing on to the kitchen.

She caught her breath, well not so much her breath as her focus, but still it felt like breath, and then turned towards the living room where Xander had come from. There they all were: all the Slayerettes, quiet and somber and dressed in dark blues and blacks. And tucked between Willow and Tara, Dawn sat at the coffee table, twirling her fork through the remnants of some kind of casserole. Alive. Safe.

_Thank you, thank you, thank you._ Buffy smiled. It had worked. She had saved her sister. She had saved them all.

Buffy pulled herself to an isolated corner where she could sit without fear of people unexpectedly walking through her. And then she watched her friends at her funeral wake, her eyes continually drifting back to Dawn. She counted her sister's breaths, waited for the slightest hint of a smile at one of Xander's lame jokes, memorized every nuance she could soak up. This is what she had bought with her life.

After the others left, Buffy followed Dawn upstairs like a puppy dog, trailing behind her as her sister entered first their mother's room and then her room. Dawn laid on Buffy's bed, holding tight to Mr. Gordo, Buffy's childhood stuffed pig, the one Buffy had never let her play with. Face buried in pillows, Dawn cried until she made herself sick, until she vomited in the trashcan next to the bed, like she had the night their mother died.

And then Buffy shadowed Dawn as she crept down the stairs on wobbly legs, probably headed to the kitchen for a drink. She nearly walked through the littlest Summers, the only Summers now, as Dawn stopped short in the archway.

Giles knelt on the dining room floor, crying.

Buffy watched them together, reminded of that long ago night outside the warehouse when she had held Giles as he grieved for his lost love. Now it was Dawn whose arms held him, whose tears mingled with his, Dawn who would be his reason to wake in the morning. Buffy knew she had made the right decision in leaving her sister with her watcher. Giles needed someone to take care of just as surely as Dawn needed to be taken care of.

She spent that night walking between Dawn's room and the living room couch, standing over each of them as they turned fitfully in their sleep, sometimes waking with her name on their lips. And then just before sunrise, Buffy discovered that she too was starting to drift asleep. Whether ghosts actually needed rest or whether it was simply a habit she had picked up from living 20 years, it didn't really matter because either way she was now asleep.

* * *

Buffy woke next to her tombstone, as she had everyday in the month since she died.

_She saved the world a lot._

"God, how cheesy. Giles must have let Dawn pick that out."

She stood and stretched, long past wondering why her periods of rest always drew her back to her grave. She didn't really understand anything about being dead. She didn't know why she was stuck here or for how long. Sometimes she wished for another ghost to come tutor her, like that weird subway guy in "Ghost." Or maybe she could find some kid who would be able to see her, like that creepy Osmond boy in "The Sixth Sense." Or maybe she would just hang out and watch her friends until she knew they had each recovered from her death.

Buffy headed towards the Magic Box. Anya would be working there, and Tara now, too. Giles had hired her after school let out for the summer, and Anya had thus far relished her new role as supervisor. If it had been Willow in Tara's position, Buffy wouldn't have laid odds on the Magic Box surviving the summer. Lucky for her watcher, Tara seemed to have an endless supply of patience and didn't mind taking orders from the ex-demon.

Giles relied more and more on Anya these days to keep the store running smoothly. He worked at the shop himself less and less now that Dawn had only half days for summer school. And in the few hours he did spend at the Magic Box each day, he was more likely to disappear back into Buffy's training room than to actually wait on customers or catalog inventory.

Of all those she had left behind, Buffy worried about Giles most. The others and even Dawn, while they all had their bad days and their crying jags, were coping and moving on. Giles barely managed. He put on a brave front for the others, often offering a shoulder for Willow to cry on, listening to Xander talk about their high school exploits as they both patrolled in the evenings, or having long discussions with Anya about death and religion during particularly slow times at the Magic Box. Once he even invited Spike in the house for dinner, mostly because Dawn wanted to spend time with the vampire and Giles could deny her nothing. But after Dawn went to bed, Giles allowed Spike to stay and shared a bottle of whiskey with him, playing sympathetic ear for Spike's grief as well.

For Dawn, Giles was a rock. He cooked her breakfast in the mornings, helped her finish her homework in the evenings, and told her all his Buffy stories. The ones from when her slaying was still a secret, the ones Buffy's mom had probably never even heard. For the most part, he indulged Dawn, but he came down hard when he had to. Summer school for instance. Dawn had thrown a fit when he enrolled her, but like it or not she was going to make up the school she had missed during her mother's illness and death, her cutting classes, their flight from Glory, and Buffy's death. Her teachers informed him that Dawn had fallen a full quarter behind the other students and summer school would put her back on par.

"It's not fair!" she had protested. "Summer break is supposed to be a, you know, a _break_."

"You'll still get your break," he pointed out practically. "Summer session is only 8 weeks, and you'll have 4 whole weeks after that to do whatever is so crucial for teenagers to do over their summer recess. Besides, you'll only be in school half days."

"I don't care. I'll be the only one in my class who has to take summer school. It's not fair! Just 'cause you're Mr. Study Guy doesn't mean I want to be. If Mom were here, she wouldn't..." Dawn choked on the rest of her statement and stormed up to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Giles had waited five or ten minutes before following her upstairs and letting himself in her room. She cried in his arms until she hiccupped uncontrollably, as he simply rubbed her back and murmured soft platitudes while she slowly calmed.

"Do I really have to go to summer school?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

Buffy had watched the whole exchange, a strange warm feeling she couldn't quite name thrumming through her at the sight of Giles so patiently comforting her sister.

Yes, her watcher was good with the brave face. He let his guard down slightly for Dawn, perhaps remembering what she had told him that night after Buffy's funeral. So when the girl caught him staring off into space or pausing next to Buffy's room, he would admit he was thinking of his slayer, or that he missed her. When she found him up at odd hours of the night, he would confess to bad dreams about Buffy. Even so, only Buffy herself perceived the true depth of his despair. It was when he was alone, that she could read the pain in his face, the fatigue of weeks with little sleep, the unshed tears that hovered at the edge of his carefully maintained control. Only Buffy witnessed the nightly struggle against the pull of the liquor cabinet, the stolen glances over an open book, the drinks that were poured but never consumed. Until finally he emptied every last drop in the house down the drain.

As his shaking hands upended each bottle, his breathing ragged, his eyes clenched shut against the sight of a moment's peace slipping between his fingers, Buffy knew. She knew without a doubt that had Dawn not been his responsibility, Giles would have gladly drunk himself into oblivion, tonight and every night until it killed him.

And so, out of all the ones she left behind, Buffy worried about Giles the most.

And if Buffy had initially turned from the light to make sure her sister was okay, she stayed now to make sure Giles would be.

She entered the Magic Box to a familiar sight: Anya enthusiastically demonstrating the best way Tara could organize some aspect of the store, or pack some shipment, or some other task that needed to be done. Anya hadn't quite worked up to letting Tara handle the money yet. And as usual, Giles was nowhere to be found.

_Probably sulking in the training room again. Jeeze, how long can one man stare at a punching bag without actually punching it?_

Moments later Willow and Dawn bounded through the front door, Willow perhaps slightly more chipper than Dawn. Tara met her lover halfway with a kiss hello. The two witches displayed public affection a bit more comfortably since Tara's brush with insanity, both grateful to have each other and to hell with what anyone else thought.

Dawn was more than happy to provide her opinion. "Eww. You guys are getting as bad as Xander and Anya."

Tara smiled shyly. "So how was school, Dawnie?"

"Yes, how was school?" Giles echoed, emerging from the training room.

Dawn shrugged. "Same stuff, just hotter classrooms with no air conditioning. Oh," she dug through her backpack and offered up a folded half sheet of paper. "We're studying the constellations in science class, so there's a field trip to the observatory Thursday night. I need you to sign my permission slip."

Giles smiled wistfully. "I used to be quite the astronomer myself. Of course, I lived much further from the city, so on a clear night you could see..."

"I'm pretty sure they're full up on chaperones this time," Dawn interrupted, holding up the slip. "Maybe when we get to the unit on demons and vampires, I'll ask if you can come along."

Giles snatched the paper and signed it quickly. "No, no, I remember how embarrassing it is for anyone under 18 to be seen with anyone over 25. I've already some experience with teenagers."

"Hey," Willow bristled. "You never embarrassed us."

Giles spared the redhead a grateful smile and handed Dawn back her signed permission slip. "Should we order in lunch today?"

Anya raised her hand. "Umm, Boss, remember you said you'd mind the store while we all went to look for wedding things?"

"That I did. Well, you lot enjoy yourselves and call if you'll have Dawn past supper."

The women filed out, chatting about which store they should visit first and what kind of bridesmaid dress they would each prefer, Anya quickly reminding them that being the bride she got final say.

Buffy watched them leave, torn between tagging along to witness the mayhem that would be Anya wedding shopping or staying behind with Giles. As the door closed behind the last of them, her watcher collapsed into the nearest chair with a weary sigh and Buffy's decision was made. He may not know that she was there, but she would keep him company anyway.

* * *

"There was this purple one, with straps that crossed in back, and long sleeves. I kinda liked that one best, but Willow wanted this green strapless one, with this really pretty sheer netting over the top. And Anya found this pink one that was awful. I think someone told her bridesmaids' dresses are supposed to be ugly, or maybe she saw it on TV, but then Tara showed her this peach one which was much better, kind of plain satin with a V-neckline."

Buffy smiled as she watched Giles' eyes glaze over. That familiar look he would get on patrol when his slayer would talk about who was dating who or what stores had sales that weekend.

_Poor guy, he thought babysitting was rough._

Her watcher and sister were standing at the kitchen sink, Dawn washing dishes and Giles drying while Buffy observed their conversation from her seat on the counter behind them. Dawn had a captive audience at the moment and seemed completely unaware of Giles' lack of interest in the topic.

"Oh, and then Anya tried on some wedding dresses. There was this one that was really pretty with this beaded neckline, and a high-waist, and sleeves that kind of..." Dawn turned to demonstrate, forgetting about the spray hose in her hand. She nailed Giles full in the chest with a good stream of warm water.

"Ah!" Giles jumped back, throwing his hands up in defense.

"Oh my God." Dawn aimed the spray hose back in the sink. "I'm so sorry."

They stood for a moment staring at each other, Giles looking wet and slightly irritated while Dawn tried desperately not to laugh. The edges of her lips twitched as she said it again, "I'm sorry."

Giles lunged for the hose in her hand, catching her off guard. She shrieked as the water hit her, her face turned, her hands grasping for his. His grip was stronger, but her arms were bare and the water made her slippery. In moments she had the upper hand, spraying him intentionally this time. The water veered this way and that as he struggled to wrench the hose from Dawn's slick grasp. Water dripped down his glasses and his face, his shirt plastered to his chest. Giles turned the tables with a tai chi move that brought Dawn's weight forward and spun her into his chest.

"No fair!" she cried, held tight around the waist by one of Giles' arms as the other sprayed her thoroughly up and down. She was laughing so hard; it took her a moment to get the word out: "Uncle!"

He released her and tossed the nozzle back into the sink, the hose immediately coiling back up next to the faucet. Battle over, they surveyed the damage. Puddles across the counters, the floor, even the curtains were dripping.

"Ugh, my hair's all wet." Dawn pushed the soggy mess back from her forehead. One look at a very drenched Giles started her laughing all over again, and him as well.

For a full five minutes, they laughed. Anytime one stopped, they had only to look at their soaking counterpart to start all over again.

Buffy thought they both looked very much like drowned rats. But the sound of their laughter was balm to her soul. Dawn laughed so rarely since their mother died, not in that true laughing-so-hard-your-side-hurts-and-tears-stream-down-your-face kind of laugh. And Giles? Well, Buffy couldn't remember the last time she had seen him more than smile, certainly not since she had died. It made him look younger, like Buffy could see a glimmer of the boy he had been. He looked handsome.

_Oh my God, did I just think that about Giles?_

But she was feeling that same warm tingling that she had been feeling off and on over the last month humming through her whole body. She realized with a start what it was.

_Oh my God, am I having feelings for Giles?_

As she sat on the counter and watched the pair clean up their mess, she knew she had indeed been feeling this way for some time. When she was very much younger and her mother had been dating, Joyce had described it as the "daughter test." Any man who couldn't get along with her daughters was a definite turn-off, but a man who showed genuine affection for them could melt her heart and win her over any day of the week.

So how could Buffy not have these feelings after spending a month watching Giles care for Dawn with such devotion?

So the Slayer examined her Watcher with new eyes, with the eyes of a woman coming to the revelation that she was falling in love with the man before her. Giles was handsome, always had been, even if Buffy had never let herself notice before. His eyes, she had always loved his green eyes, would know them anywhere, even in the body of a demon. He had a nice body, too. His waterlogged clothes hugged him tight, leaving very little to the imagination. Yes, their daily training had left him in very good shape.

She shook her head and jumped off the counter.

_What are you thinking, Buffy? You have like the worst timing in the world. You don't realize how much you care about Riley until it's too late, and he's on a helicopter to South America. The only thing that could top that, I guess, is realizing you're in love with your watcher after you're dead and buried! Yeah, that's real smart._

Smart or not, she could no longer deny her feelings as, later that night, she watched Giles tutor Dawn in geometry. He was smart; he was handsome; and he loved her sister. The only problem Buffy could see in this whole situation was that she was a ghost. She couldn't even touch him. Couldn't even tell him how she felt.

Being dead sucked.

* * *

Buffy stood over his bed. This room had been her mother's, but now it was his. Dawn had been the practical one, pointing out that Giles couldn't sleep on the couch forever and there were only the three bedrooms. Neither one had even considered the possibility of touching Buffy's room. Giles had hesitated over even this one at first. Moving into Joyce's room so soon after Buffy's funeral seemed unwise. But Willow had insisted that enough time had passed since Joyce's death, and especially now after Buffy's, that Dawn needed a sense of permanence, the security of knowing Giles meant to stay forever.

So the Scoobies made a day of it: emptying Joyce's room and redecorating for Giles. Dawn cried over every piece of furniture and article of clothing, making Giles constantly second-guess his decision. But every time he asked her, Dawn was adamant that she was okay with this. They painted, hung blinds on the windows and artwork on the walls, and moved as much of Giles' stuff as would fit in the little bedroom. Less than three days after Buffy's funeral, Giles had his own room in her house and was sleeping in his own bed.

And now a month later, Buffy stood over that bed, the knowledge of her love for him so new in her mind that she had to constantly watch him in order to convince herself that what she was feeling was real. Knowing it was real only made her curse herself and fate even more.

_Why couldn't I have figured this out before, when I was still alive? It's been here inside me this whole time, and I couldn't see it. And now it's too late._

Giles stirred, and Buffy drew closer. He started moaning, and then thrashing in his sleep. She had watched him suffer night after night like this and wondered if he had nightmares this bad when she was alive too.

She reached out one hand to smooth his brow, calm his panic, remembering too late that _oh, yeah, Buffy, you're dead and you can't touch him._

Her hand passed through him, a light tingling that sizzled up her arm. Suddenly, the room spun, and she blinked away dizziness. Ghosts weren't supposed to get dizzy. She looked up and saw scaffolding criss-crossing to the night sky above her, reaching towards the platform Dawn was tied to. Buffy thought, _Oh God, this is the night I died._

She spun around to dash up the stairs, desperate to stop these chains of events, but there was already another Buffy running just ahead of her, the Troll hammer discarded behind her on the floor.

"Can you move?"

She turned at Giles' voice. He knelt over Ben's bruised and bloodied body. She realized then what was happening. _He was having a nightmare, and I touched him. Now I'm in his dream with him._

"Need... a minute." Ben coughed up blood, breathing heavily. Buffy wanted to feel guilty for beating him within an inch of his life, but she had never intentionally hurt Ben. She had pounded on Glory with the Troll hammer, and he just happened to share her body. Instead of guilt Buffy felt anger. Ben had come to the desert knowing the danger he put Dawn in by doing so, and still he came. For what? To flirt with her? To play the hero? A real hero would have sent someone else, would never have let Glory anywhere near Dawn.

"She could have killed me."

"No she couldn't. Never. And sooner or later, Glory will re-emerge and make Buffy pay for that mercy, and the world with her. Buffy even knows that, and still she couldn't take a human life. Because she's a hero, you see. She's not like us."

"Us?"

Buffy watched in horror as Giles' hand thrust out to cover Ben's mouth and nose. She had never seen his green eyes look so cold and ruthless, except perhaps when he had rammed the sword straight through the Mayor. He watched the man struggle beneath him, his expression never changing as Ben suffocated, as Giles took the human life that she couldn't.

She remembered what he had said to her in the training room, when all she could think of had been that he was referring to Dawn. _I have sworn to protect this sorry world, and sometimes that means saying and doing... what other people can't. What they shouldn't have to._

Her hands came up to her mouth to hold in her cry. She had done this to him. She hadn't been able to finish Ben off, even though she knew it had to be done. At the time, she could think of nothing except getting to Dawn. She had put Giles in the position of doing her dirty work, of committing murder on her behalf, and shouldering the burden of guilt after.

Ben's thrashing ceased. He was dead. And still Giles held him by nose and throat, still pressed him against the ground. Beneath Giles' hand, Ben shifted and morphed, his strong build shrinking into feminine curves, hair flowing outward in blond waves, face smoothing into lovely familiar lines. Buffy realized it at the same moment as Giles: that it was her form beneath him.

"No!" His anguished cry echoed across the construction site. He snatched his hand back as if on fire, his stone mask crumbling into panic and fear. "Buffy... Buffy ... BUFFY!" Giles was shaking her still form, then frantically trying to breathe life back into her. "Oh God, what have I done?"

Buffy reached out to touch him, expecting to pass through as she had every time before, but here in his dream she felt the soft curls of his hair.

"Giles?"

His movements stilled as he turned disbelieving eyes towards her. "Buffy?"

She smiled and nodded, tears now spilling down her cheeks. _He sees me. He can really see me._

He stood, his fingers finding her tears and brushing them away. He traced the contours of her face reverently, smoothed back her golden hair. His eyes glistened. "I'm so sorry."

She leaned into his caresses like a cat, enjoying the simple sensation of being touched. "What for?"

"I should have made you leave me in the desert. If I had, none of this would have happened."

She reached out to cradle his face in her hands, fingers memorizing the feel of his skin against hers. "You couldn't have known, Giles. None of this is your fault. You were unconscious, and I asked Ben to come. I asked him. And even knowing how it would turn out, I would still have asked him. You would have died if I hadn't."

"But you would have lived."

"You don't know that. It may have turned out just like this anyway. Besides, I couldn't have left you in that gas station."

"Because of the things I said?"

"No. It doesn't matter that I could never have just left you to die. The bigger picture is that there was a whole army of Knights camped on our front step. We couldn't go anywhere, with or without you."

"Oh." He frowned as if he'd never considered that. He looked back towards Buffy's dead body. "It's not supposed to happen like this. You're always dead, and I'm too late." He turned back to Buffy, framed her face with his hands. "This can't be real. It can't be you."

Buffy placed her hands over his, pressing them against her face as if she could imprint his touch against her skin and take it with her. "It's not real. It's a dream. But _I'm_ real. Giles, you have to listen to me. I don't know how much time I have before you wake up. I'm a ghost, and I've been watching over all of you. You and Dawn mostly. You're so good with her, and I'm so proud of you. But you have to let me go. You have to get over this idea that you're responsible for my death. You couldn't have done anything. You couldn't have saved me. I made the choice, and I would do it again. It saved Dawn. It saved you. It saved everyone.

"I'm fine, Giles, really I am. But I need you to go on. I need you to be happy. I told Dawn that the hardest thing in this world is to live in it. I need you to do that, Giles, to live in this world. Think of me and be thankful for the time I had. It's more than most slayers get. Be happy, Giles. Live for me."

He trembled beneath her fingertips, his tears falling freely now. She never expected him to kiss her, but he did. His kiss was soft and undemanding, yet filled with passion and longing. She returned the kiss and deepened it, her hands slipping from his to tangle in his hair and pull him closer. When he had drank his fill of her, he shoved her backwards, wresting himself from her grip.

"You're not real. You're just some fantasy I have in my head, telling me what I want to hear. The real Buffy would never have kissed me like that."

"No!" Buffy reached for him, wanting to tell him she loved him, wanting to pour out her whole heart to him and make him believe that she was real. But there was no time. It was like running to the helipad too late to stop Riley. It was like holding Angel in her arms and watching Acathla open behind him. Too late. Too late. She was always too late. No happy endings for Buffy.

Because now Giles had bolted upright. He was awake, and Buffy was nothing more than a ghost beside his bed. She could only weep as he covered his face with his hands, his body shaking as he sobbed. No one to hold him tonight. Just Buffy to watch his misery and wonder if she had made it worse or better by stepping into his dream.

She stayed until he slept again, only then allowing herself to close her eyes and follow.

When she woke, she was laying beside her tombstone, as usual. But things were not usual at all. The ground before the headstone had been disturbed. Buffy's grave was empty.

Next: Part 4: Another Slayer, Another Watcher


	4. Another Slayer, Another Watcher

ORIGINALLY POSTED: June 19, 2001  
TITLE: Death Brings Clarity  
AUTHOR: JK Philips  
RATING: PG-13 (mild swearing)  
SUMMARY: From "Spiral" to "The Gift" followed by my own attempt to put things right.  
Giles has a moment of clarity, but it's too late. How he deals with Buffy's death and how  
she comes back to him.  
SPOILERS: Everything up to "The Gift"  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon,  
Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.

* * *

Part 4: Another Slayer, Another Watcher

Willow hit the ground, stunned for a moment. The demon lunged for her, raking its nine-inch nails across her back as she rolled away. Where were Xander and Giles?

She scrambled to her feet and took off running, the beast barely a breath behind her. She dodged tombstones and ducked under trees. She lacked a slayer's speed and strength, but she had magic, if only she could catch her breath long enough to use it.

The demon tackled her, and she hadn't time to brace her hands against the fall before her chin knocked into the hard earth. She tasted blood, the world spun, and the demon flipped her on her back. Willow thrust one hand towards its scaly face, uttering the word, "Thicken." She backpedaled out from under the creature as it roared against the invisible barrier.

Her wounds stung, her head spinning as she stumbled away from the demon. How to kill it? She realized they had all grown careless after finding nothing but vampires on the last two weeks' patrols. Research had lagged. More important things to do. Wedding plans for Anya and Xander. Spending time with Tara. Helping Giles take care of Dawn. And trying every second not to think about how much she missed Buffy. She hadn't the slightest idea how to kill this monster. Her holy water and crosses would not be doing the trick.

The demon lumbered free of her barrier, aiming straight for her.

"Incendere!" She cried, and fire circled the beast. He kept coming, right through the flames.

Looked like fire wasn't the ticket either. Where were Xander and Giles? Giles at least had a sword and knew how to use it.

She opened her mouth to weave another spell, but the demon was faster, its hand snaking out to snatch her by the throat and cut off her air. It sneered, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth and breath that made Willow gag.

"Witch," it spat as Willow felt her feet lift from the ground. Her vision was growing dark. She struggled to pry herself from its grip. _This is it,_ she thought. _Buffy, here I come._

She hit the ground, sucking in lungfuls of air, massaging her bruised throat. Her vision cleared. She saw the demon she had been fighting, now paired off with a girl, maybe 15 or 16, and the demon appeared to be losing.

The girl dodged its every advance, her blond braid whipping into her face as she spun-kicked the demon straight in the chest. It stumbled back, giving the girl time to draw a sword from the scabbard slung across her back. One stroke parted the demon's head from its body. It lay dead, and the girl wiped the blade of her sword across the grass before replacing it behind her back.

Willow pulled herself onto wobbly feet, slightly weak and woozy. "That was… wow… you were great. Um, who are you?"

"I am Nicole, the Slayer."

The redhead's eyes went round. "Oh, oh… You must be the one… I mean when Buffy…"

"Willow!"

Giles was calling for her. She turned to see him jogging up behind her from the other side of the cemetery, his sword unsheathed and blooded. Xander followed ten steps behind, limping and holding his right arm.

"Hey, Giles," she called back. "I'm okay. This is Nicole. She saved me. She's the um… the new… the new Slayer."

He faltered ten feet from them, then caught his balance and picked up his pace, one hand urgently searching his pockets as he crossed the distance to her. "Come here, Willow. Now." His voice was cold steel. He never used that tone with her, or at least he hadn't since high school. Willow pivoted to look again at the slayer.

Nicole smiled, hands on her hips, head tipped to one side. "Look, Watcher knows who I am. It's much more fun this way."

Giles reached them, shoving Willow behind him with his free hand as the other brandished the sword in front of him. "Council reports have you dead in Liverpool."

"Yes, well, sometimes Slayers come back." She murmured something in French, then dashed out of the graveyard and was gone.

"Giles, you know her?" Willow asked.

"I know of her."

"What did she mean: sometimes Slayers…"

"Not now!" His eyes were scanning the rest of the cemetery. "We'll talk about this back at the magic shop. Xander, are you ok?"

The young man had joined them, still limping and pressing a nasty gash on his right arm. "I'll be fine. The ankle's just twisted. And the arm's stopped bleeding. I don't think it'll need stitches. Just some pressure and tape it up."

Giles nodded, still not looking at either one of them, still searching their surroundings. "Let's get back to the shop. We'll pick up Anya and Tara on the way. I think this is going to require some research, the sooner the better."

Willow didn't argue, just slid her arm around Xander and helped him to the car.

Anya and Tara were at Buffy's house, watching Dawn until the group got back from patrol, a fact that meant they only needed to stop once on the way to the Magic Box.

Halfway there, Xander leaned in close to Willow, whispering, "This must be serious. Giles hasn't said anything about me getting blood in his car."

Giles pulled in the driveway, left the car running, and told the two friends to wait for him. Ten minutes later he returned, followed by Anya and Tara, all three still in mid-conversation.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Giles," Tara was saying, "We really didn't mean to keep Dawn up so late on a school night."

"Yes," Anya echoed, as she climbed in the back seat next to Xander. "Dawn agreed to go to bed the minute you pulled in the driveway and pretend to be asleep. If you had come home at the normal time, we would have expected you, and you would have never known she was still awake."

"How thoughtless of me," Giles muttered.

Tara blushed and ducked her head.

"Is Dawn coming?" Willow asked.

"No," Giles answered as he backed out of the drive. "It's 12 o'clock on a school night. I sent her to bed with strict instructions not to invite anyone in and to call at the shop if there's any problem. And if I'm not mistaken, Spike is loitering across the street. She should be fine for a few hours."

"Hey!" Anya pulled Xander's hand from his arm. "You're injured."

Xander brushed her off, and put pressure back on his wound. "It's nothing. I'll be fine."

"But you're bleeding. We should take you to a doctor before your arm becomes infected and falls off."

"Really, An, I'm fine. We'll disinfect it and bandage it at the shop."

Anya scowled at him, settling back with her head against his shoulder.

Within minutes, they had pulled in front of the magic shop and were soon gathered around the large conference table. Willow fetched the first aid kit and tended Xander's arm while waiting for Giles to gather the necessary books from the upstairs loft. After she finished, Xander took care of the cuts across her back.

The group was silent as Giles dropped the stack of books on the table. He sighed and began.

"Nicole Leblanc was a Slayer and the daughter of a Countess in France. In her time, prospective slayers were given to their watchers as children. Marcus Roderick Somerton was her Watcher and raised her from the age of three. When she became the active Slayer, he took her to Paris. She died in 1807 at the age of fifteen, barely six months after being Called."

Xander raised his good hand. "And this little history lesson is a big emergency because…?"

Willow jumped up. "Oh! That was her! Xander, that girl in the cemetery just before you caught up to us. She said she was Nicole, the Slayer. That was her, wasn't it, Giles?"

"I'm afraid so." He opened the book on the top of the stack and turned the page towards Willow. He pointed at an old lithograph drawing, and she recognized the girl dressed in period garments.

Anya leaned over to get a good look, too. "So if she died almost two hundred years ago, how did you see her on patrol tonight?"

Giles closed the book and replaced it on the stack. "She's a vampire. She was turned. By her Watcher."

"So her watcher's a vampire too," Xander deduced.

They were silent for a moment before Tara summarized, "So there's like a super-powerful Slayer out there with added vampire strength. And she has her own vamp-Giles with like all his knowledge plus two hundred years."

"Yeah," Xander confirmed. "Literal vampire slayer. The fun just keeps on leaving."

"Wait a sec," Willow chimed in. "She saved me from that demon. She killed it. Why would a vampire do that?"

Giles began polishing his glasses, and sighed. "That's their hunting pattern. I should have recognized it sooner. Vampire population rises. Demons disappear. I just thought, well, we've focused so much of our patrols on eliminating the demons that crossed over after the dimensional rift opened. I just thought we were being effective. And without a Slayer, it would be only natural for the vampires to multiply and become more arrogant. I'm such a fool. I can't believe I didn't see it earlier."

Willow patted him on the hand. "It's okay, Giles. Anyone would have come to those same conclusions."

Tara frowned. "So they hunt demons?"

Giles replaced his glasses and continued. "A slayer's drive to hunt doesn't disappear after she's turned. She needs to do more than feed, she needs to fight, and humans would be no challenge. It has the added benefit of eliminating competition for their food supply.

"Our last records of them are from England in 1928. They wiped out the demon population in the small city of Childwall, just outside Liverpool. They turned enough of the population to form a small army. It seems Marcus Somerton intended to destroy the Watcher's Council, which at that point had a branch office in Liverpool."

Xander whistled. "Gotta love a vamp with a plan."

"What happened?" Anya asked.

"They burned the Council offices to the ground. Over fifty watchers died fighting them. The ones that survived reported that Nicole and Marcus were dust. The reports were generally believed when they never came after the main headquarters in London."

"Except now they're in Sunnydale," Willow finished.

"Except now they're in Sunnydale," Giles confirmed. "We need to find out everything we can about them if we're going to fare better than the people of Childwall."

He handed out books to everyone, and the next couple hours passed in silence as the group reverted to research mode. The night was late, and everyone was tired, but they needed some answers. Coffee was made, donuts were fetched, and sore muscles were stretched as the stack of books in the center table slowly diminished.

"This is weird," Willow said at about 2:30 in the morning.

"What did you find?" Giles asked as he leaned over her shoulder.

"These dates don't seem right. All the books say she was turned by her watcher, right? In 1807? But I have a watcher's diary from 1812, another watcher who talks about Marcus Somerton. And he's still _alive_."

Xander leaned over Willow's other shoulder. "I thought only vamps could make other vamps."

"As far as we know that's true," Giles confirmed.

Willow shook her head. "No, this watcher doesn't mention anything about Nicole becoming a vampire. He just talks about how upset Marcus is at losing his slayer. See: '_I am deeply concerned for my friend's sanity. It has been almost five years, and Marcus speaks of nothing but Nicole. My servants must fetch him home from the local pub nearly every evening. I imagine the patrons think he is bound for the asylum to hear him speak of demons and vampires. The Watcher's Council would surely dismiss him were his family not so prominent among their ranks. This afternoon I came upon him in my garden holding a kitchen knife_' -see, Giles, outside and daylight equals not vampire- '_holding a kitchen knife, of which I quickly divested him. He gave no explanation, save that Nicole needed him to be with her._'

"Okay, so he's still alive in 1812, five years after Nicole dies. How does he make her a vampire?"

"Yeah," Xander added, "Isn't there a time limit for making vampires?"

Giles slipped his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he thought. "Everything we know about vampires tells us that they must be near death when they drink from their Sire, but they must still be alive. It's at the moment of death that the soul leaves the body and the demon takes over. It won't work on the dead, and certainly not someone who's been dead for over five years. If it did, vampires would be digging people up to turn them. And that's never happened as far as we know."

"Well, somehow he found a loophole," Anya pointed out.

Giles nodded and replaced his glasses, looking around at the tired faces surrounding him. "Why don't I take you all home, and you can get some rest. I think we've made some good progress here tonight. We'll keep working on it at the shop tomorrow. Stop in as you each have time."

Giles grabbed Marcus Somerton's Watcher diaries as he left, certain he would find something useful in there. They all piled in his car, and he took them home pair by pair.

* * *

Giles parked in front of the house on Revello Drive. He still couldn't shake the feeling that Buffy would be waiting for him inside, and it had been five weeks. Giles wondered if the rest of his life would be measured from Buffy's death.

He heard voices as he neared the front door. He shoved the key in the lock quickly, trying to anticipate who would be at the other side. He had taken all the Slayerettes home and had noticed Spike duck behind the neighbor's tree as he pulled in the drive. There was no one else who had reason to be in the house. If Dawn thought she could just invite people over when she was home alone at three in the bloody morning, he would have to have a word with her. In Sunnydale it just wasn't safe.

He saw her first, curled up in an armchair in her pajamas. She turned when she heard the door, her face sad and her eyes frightened.

He rounded the corner, stopping in the archway when he saw them sitting on the couch. A woman he didn't recognize. A man he did.

The man stood and crossed the room. "You must be Mr. Giles. I've heard so much about you."

Giles smiled tightly, his heart pounding in his chest. When it rained, it certainly poured. "Hank Summers." He offered his hand to the man, his grip perhaps a bit too tight.

Hank turned towards the woman on the couch, shaking out the hand Giles had just squeezed. "This is my fiancé, Susan."

The woman joined him at his side, shaking Giles' hand as well. Perfectly manicured nails, hair two shades too blonde, make-up and suit flawless. Closer to Buffy's age than Hank's, but who was Giles to condemn?

"Fiancé?" Giles questioned with an upturned brow.

Hank wrapped an arm around the woman and pulled her closer. "Yeah, it's new for me too. After I heard about Joyce, I guess it just hit me hard, how short life is. Christ, she was two years _younger_ than me. Susan and I were in Italy on business, and I just figured seize the day. We rented a boat and cruised the Mediterranean, and I proposed. A few days turned into a few weeks, just sailing across the water on our own. No phones, no faxes, no pagers. When we finally docked in Naples, my office had been trying to get a hold of me for a month. They had about a dozen messages from you, and someone in marketing had found Buffy's..." His voice broke, and he took a moment to collect himself. "They had found Buffy's obituary. We didn't even go back to Spain, just got on the first plane to Sunnydale."

Hank looked shaken. The rest of them had over a month to begin to accept Buffy's death. Her father's grief was new.

Susan jumped in to relieve the tense silence. "We wanted to call and let you know we were coming, but we barely made each transfer, and there just wasn't enough time to use the phone. Our flight only arrived a half hour ago. I know it's late, but Hank needed to see Dawn right away."

"Of course," Giles nodded, his eyes searching out Dawn's. She was watching him, her expression blank, waiting for his response.

Hank looked back to his daughter. "Honey, you need your sleep, and it's been a long flight for us. Susan and I are going to check in a hotel for the night, but we'll be back in the morning. Is that ok?" Dawn nodded. "Good. Come give us a hug goodbye."

Dawn obediently came to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, her eyes closed. Giles felt his stomach sink as he observed father and daughter together.

He stepped aside for Hank and Susan to pass, nodding blankly as Hank told him, "We'll talk tomorrow, Mr. Giles, about arrangements for Dawn."

The front door shut. He was standing less than two feet from Dawn, unable to meet her eyes. "Y-you... you have school tomorrow, Dawn," he stammered. "You should go back to bed."

She shifted her weight and played with the cuffs on her PJ top. "Dad said he would pick me up after school. Is that ok?"

He smiled weakly. "Of course."

She headed up the stairs, pausing after a few steps. "Giles?"

"Hmm?"

She frowned, and opened her mouth, as though she were about to ask him something. She shook her head, and then sighed. "Good night."

"Good night, Dawn."

Giles locked the front door and wandered into the living room. He noticed he was still carrying Marcus Somerton's Watcher diaries. They seemed so goddamn important barely half an hour ago. Now, he tossed them on the coffee table with his glasses and sank down into the couch. Elbows on knees, face buried in hands, he wondered bleakly what more could go wrong in his life.

_Did you really think the girl's father wouldn't come for her, Giles? Did you really think Dawn would want to stay with you when he did?_

He snatched the first diary from the table and donned his glasses. Hopefully research would distract him.

* * *

"Willow, are you sure? You can always come back after class and help out." Giles was pouring them both tea as the young witch set up her laptop on the table.

"No, I'm fine. Not missing anything important, and I think I can help you out with the online stuff. You be Book Guy and I'll be Computer Girl. Like research superheroes."

Giles frowned as he watched her boot up the machine. "I just never imagined you cutting class. It's something Xander would be more likely to do."

"Hey!" Xander protested as he came up behind them. "My class cutting days are over. Now I just skip work. So book me. What do I got?" Xander flipped the top book off the stack, considering its weight as one might a bowling ball. "Ahhh. _Dark Magicks._ This should be… umm dark."

"Yes, I thought we might start with spells," Giles said, as he exchanged Xander's book for a thinner volume entitled, _Rituals of the Dead._ "I did further research last night. It seems Marcus Somerton was quite proficient at spellcraft."

Willow was still stuck on Giles' previous comment, sounding somewhat offended. "I can skip class if I want to. It's a college thing. It's what college students do: skip classes. And it's only summer school. That's almost optional. Besides, it's not like I'm skipping class to have wild orgy parties. I'm doing research. I'm studying. It's like class, but without the students and teachers."

Xander settled down next to his best friend and opened his book. "Me thinks Willow protests too much. Although, maybe we could jump back to that wild orgy party imagery. I'd be cool with you cutting class for that."

Giles sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. "Maybe we could just get back to the vampires who have the skills of watcher and slayer. As I was saying, Marcus' diaries indicate he had a talent for magic and a penchant for dabbling in the darker sides of his power. I think that however he turned Nicole, it must have involved a spell. If we figure out how he did it, maybe we'll have some idea as to their weakness."

Tara took a book and slid into the chair on Willow's other side, as Giles delivered a volume to Anya behind the counter. She looked at it with a frown.

"I have to watch the register."

"Yes," he said, as he returned to his own research, "But unless the entire graduating class of Hogwarts decides to pay us a visit, I'm fairly certain you'll have time for both."

"Ok, but I should get time and a half for this."

Giles only rolled his eyes and dove into his own studies. Willow smiled and leaned across the table to pat him on the arm. "Way to go with the pop culture reference, Giles. Dawn's a good influence on you."

He returned her smile somewhat sheepishly and sipped his tea.

The morning passed slowly as the frustration level only increased. Willow found Marcus Somerton's death certificate when she hacked into an online archive. He died in 1813 of severe blood loss attributed to deep puncture wounds in his carotid artery. So at least they knew when he was turned, but they were still no closer to an answer on how he Sired Nicole. Her first reported sighting was a year after Marcus' death, and all sources seemed confident that he had turned her and not the other way around.

They had all had very little sleep and by noon they were getting snappish. Willow and Anya started trading insults and when Xander tried to play peacemaker, they both turned on him. Tara simply got quieter, sinking deeper into her book, as one hand tapped her pencil against the tabletop. Tap. Ta-tap. Tap-tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Ta-tap. It was mere inches from Giles' open book, and he watched the pencil eraser rise and fall, the sound pounding into his head.

Finally he could take no more and slammed his hand over hers. "For God's sake, Buffy, stop it!"

The bickering triangle across the table stopped mid-sentence. Tara gasped. The room silenced. Giles realized his slip, but there was no way to take it back. "I'm so sorry, Tara."

"It's ok," she answered softly.

He could feel all their eyes on him, and it was more than he could take at the moment. "I'm going to… umm… I'll be right back. I'm going to make some more tea." He escaped behind the counter and lost himself in the familiar pattern of boiling water and measuring out tea leaves. The mood behind him had darkened, and he almost wished for the previous arguing to resume. For a short while it had almost felt like old times again, and they had almost been able to forget about their missing member. Maybe that's why he had spoken her name without thought. Because for a short while, it almost felt like she was here.

He rejoined a more somber group, each buried in their respective research.

Willow glanced up as he approached and offered him a sad smile. "It's almost 12:30, Giles. Do you want me to pick up Dawn?"

It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't mentioned Hank to any of them. "Her father's actually picking her up today. They'll be by the shop later this afternoon."

Xander's eyebrows lifted. "Her dad's in town? When did this happen and how come you didn't tell any of us?"

"He only got in last night." Giles fidgeted with his teacup. "I didn't know he was coming. Then with our present situation, I simply forgot to mention it."

Xander slammed his book shut. "I can't believe the nerve! The guy thinks he can just swoop in after five weeks and carry Dawn off? Where was he five weeks ago? Where was he when their mom died?"

Willow placed her hand over his. "Xander." She shook her head no. She cast a sideways glance towards Giles. "Not now."

Giles realized the pain was clearly visible on his face. Truth was he was terrified of losing Dawn. Taking care of her made his days bearable, made him feel useful, gave him purpose. More than that, she was his last tie to Buffy. Giles ducked his head back into his book.

Xander muttered, "The guy's a bastard. That's all I'm saying." And then the rest was silence.

Giles lost himself in his research. Blessed research that had always blocked out the pain. After Randall, after Jenny, after Buffy, and now the possibility of losing Dawn. The analytical part of his mind kicked on, the emotive part kicked off. Until nearly two hours had passed, and he had reached a breakthrough.

"I think I have it." The others looked up, waiting for him to enlighten them. "It's a resurrection spell, but with a twist. It folds time around the corpse of the deceased, reverting the body back to the last few minutes of life. It only affects the physical form, so the soul is still gone. The spell lasts a short time, minutes at most, keeping the body alive while it is working. But once the spell fades, with no soul to animate the body, it would simply die a second time."

Tara leaned in to read over his shoulder. "Unless the body was turned into a vampire."

"Exactly," Giles agreed.

Xander frowned, his finger darting through the air as he pieced together the puzzle. "So you're saying this watcher guy, Marcus, his slayer gets killed and he's upset. He mopes around for five or six years until some vamp makes him dinner and turns him into undead watcher. He still misses Nicole, but it's been years, and she's got to be pretty rotten by then. Not to mention, she needs to be dying, not dead, for him to make her a vampire. So he finds this spell, works some magic, and turns her body back the way it was just before she died. And then in the few minutes before the spell can fade, he drains her, makes her feed off of him, and viola, actual Vampire Slayer."

Giles nodded. "I would say that is a fairly accurate summary of the events." He pushed the book away. "Unfortunately that leaves us back at the beginning. There's no inherent weakness in this spell for us to exploit. The spell ended two hundred years ago. Now we're just dealing with two regular vampires. Except one has the skills of a slayer and the other the knowledge and training of a watcher. We still don't have any idea how to defeat them without our own slayer, and we don't know what they're doing in Sunnydale."

Willow pulled the book to her side of the table, reading through the specific spell. "Most of these ingredients are pretty common, except for these three. They're usually the main component in whatever spells they are used for, but I've never seen all three together in one. Oooh!" Willow bounced in her seat and started typing on her laptop. "Anya and I have been converting your inventory and sales receipts into a searchable database. Let me check something out." Her brow furrowed as she focused. "Yup, here it is. About two weeks ago, someone came in and bought themselves everything they needed for this spell. But they paid cash, so we don't know who they are."

"Oh, I think we know who they are," Xander countered.

"Yeah," Willow agreed, "But if they had paid with a card or a check, we might have some idea where they were living."

The phone rang, and Giles crossed the shop to answer it. He glanced at the clock: after 3. He expected it to be Dawn's father. They wouldn't be home until after dinner. They wouldn't be home tonight. They had gone to LA and wouldn't be back until the weekend. They had gotten standby tickets to Spain and wouldn't be back at all. By the by, thanks for looking after my daughter, we'll be sure to keep in touch.

"Magic Box…"

The others listened with half an ear to Giles' side of the conversation.

"Yes this is he… I beg your pardon?… Are you sure?… Yes, yes of course… When?… Yes, thank you… Of course… Perhaps tomorrow, if that's ok?… Thank you again for calling."

The phone clicked back in its receiver. Giles looked very pale. He could see that his hands were shaking. He clenched his fists to steady them.

"Giles?" Willow sounded concerned.

"Dear Lord," he breathed, "I think I know why they came to Sunnydale. It seems… that is… Within the last couple days, someone…"

"Out with it!" Xander barked.

"That was the groundskeeper at Restfield Cemetery." Giles paused, took a deep breath. "In the last two days… the ground has been disturbed… Buffy's grave is empty."

No one moved. No one breathed. The world had tilted on its side.

Anya finally voiced the thought they all shared, but no one else could state aloud. "You mean they came to Sunnydale to use the spell on Buffy, to turn her into a vampire? You mean we might have to stake Buffy?"

"Let us pray it doesn't come to that." Giles leaned back against the counter. His knees felt weak. "We can only hope Marcus hasn't had a chance to perform the spell yet."

"Maybe this could be a good thing." Xander sounded hopeful. "What if, when he does the spell, we do our own spell and put Buffy's soul back, like we did for Angel."

Willow shook her head. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "That was a curse for vampires."

Xander tried again. "Ok, so after he turns her into a vampire, we… we… curse Buffy… so she can never be happy. Yeah, ok, bad idea." He dropped his head onto the table.

Giles shoved his hands in his pockets. They wouldn't stop shaking dammit. "I think that wherever Buffy's soul is, she deserves her rest. Let's focus on preventing her from becoming the very thing she spent her life fighting."

Willow trailed her finger along the page of the spellbook. She wore a puzzled expression, and then reached for another volume on the table. "Giles, the incantation for the spell wasn't in that book. But here." She pointed to a page in the second book. "This one doesn't give a full description of the spell or list the ingredients, but it has the incantation. It has to be performed at the height of a full moon and sanctified in blood."

Giles crossed the room to read over her shoulder. "Hmm… Tomorrow night is the full moon. So we have until tomorrow night to stop the ritual and prevent them from getting their blood sacrifice."

With his usual sense of timing, Hank Summers chose that moment to enter the Magic Box with Dawn in tow. Susan was nowhere to be seen, and Dawn appeared to have been crying. Hank looked angry enough to put a fist through something, and from the focus of his glare, it seemed like Giles was the something he was aiming for.

"Mr. Giles," he said curtly, "May I have a word with you?"

Giles' eyes slid back again to Dawn. She was watching him with wide, frightened eyes, her chin quivering. "Willow, could you take Dawn in the training room and help her get started on her homework?"

"No." Hank held his arm out to prevent Dawn from coming forward. He pointed towards the door behind him. "I told you to wait in the car with Susan."

"But, Dad, Willow always helps me with my homework." Tears began sliding down pre-soaked paths on her cheeks. "Please."

"Go. Wait. In. The. Car. Now." Hank's gaze never wavered from Giles.

Dawn's stuck out her chin defiantly and marched around her father. Her courage dissolved several paces past him, and she ran the rest of the way into the training room.

"Dawn! Get back here," Hank called after her, but made no move to follow.

Tara and Willow both rose and joined Dawn in the back room, shutting the door behind them.

"Mr. Giles, while I do appreciate everything you have done for my girls after their mother died, and everything you have done for Dawn the last five weeks, you have completely overstepped your bounds."

Giles scratched his head, his mind spinning for the explanation for Hank's anger. "Mr. Summers, I assure you, I have no idea what this is about."

"Someone's got it in that girl's head that she's going to be staying in Sunnydale. With you. You telling me you didn't give her that idea?"

Giles looked away, at once relieved and frightened. On the one hand, Dawn wanted to stay with him. On the other, her father wasn't going to make it easy. Giles couldn't imagine a court anywhere that would give custody to a forty-something foreign bachelor instead of to the girl's own father. No matter what Buffy's will said. No matter what motion terminating Hank's parental rights passed. All Giles needed was for the INS to pull his green card, and he wouldn't even be able to stay in the country with Dawn. In the grand scheme of things, he really wasn't the fit choice. Except that Dawn wanted to stay with him.

"Mr. Summers, I only told Dawn that Buffy's will named me as her legal guardian. That in your absence-"

"Yes," Hank interrupted. "In my absence. I'm here now, and Dawn is my daughter, and you are going to go back there and explain to her that she will not be staying in Sunnydale with you, that she will not be staying anywhere with you, that she will be living with her father and her future step-mother."

"For how long?" Xander stepped up between the two men. Giles had completely forgotten that he and Anya were still in the room. "I'm sorry. Let me introduce myself. I'm Xander Harris. I was one of Buffy's best friends. And I do big brother duty for Dawn. But you would know all of that if you gave a rat's ass about either of your daughters."

"Xander!" Giles admonished.

"How dare you!" Hank sputtered. "I love both my girls, and if you think I'm going to leave Dawn in the care of strangers-"

"Strangers!" Xander laughed and stepped forward into Hank's face. "Let me tell you something, Mister. This man," he pointed to Giles, "This man has been there for Buffy and Dawn everyday for the last five years. He's been to birthdays and graduations. In fact, right about now I'm wishing you had been at Buffy's graduation. Front row, center.

"This man has been there for the high points and the low points. And more than a few of those low points have been the times their father stood them up for birthdays or weekend visits or annual camping trips. This man sat outside the morgue, filling out paperwork that _your_ girls were too upset to think about, because their mother had just _died_. This man not only managed to actually attend _your_ daughter's funeral, but he planned the whole damn thing. And when no one could track you down, this man packed up and moved in with Dawn, rearranged his whole life to take care of her.

"So, I'm just wondering how long you plan to stay in Dawn's life this time. 'Cause I know _this man_ will stay as long as she needs him to."

Hank's eyes narrowed. "Are you quite through?"

Xander considered for a moment. "No. Just one more thing. You are a complete bastard." Xander stepped back and crossed his arms, as if daring the man to challenge his assessment.

Hank turned back to Giles, his stance hostile as if he expected a rant from him, too. "Mr. Giles, I'll be the first to admit I've made mistakes with my girls. What father hasn't? I let work interfere, when I should have been making them my priority. But I spent a lot of time these last few months thinking. When I asked Susan to marry me, I told her we'd be moving back to the office in LA. It wouldn't have been fair to make Buffy responsible for her sister when Buffy had college and a life of her own." Hank closed his eyes against the pain of knowing that now Buffy had neither of those things. He took a deep breath and forged ahead. "Mr. Giles, you and I both know that this isn't about what Dawn wants. This is about what is best for her. I am her father. I'm the only real family she has left. If you care for her as much as everyone thinks you do, then I know you'll do what's best for her."

Giles looked back towards the training room. He didn't need to see through the door to guess what was going on back there. Willow and Tara would be trying to comfort Dawn, to promise her that everything would be ok. Dawn would be crying, terrified that her father would take her away from all of them and probably even more terrified that Giles would just let her go.

"Mr. Summers, I only want to do right by Dawn. If she wants to stay here with me, then I have to believe that is the right thing to do."

Hank's jaw twitched. "You can't keep her."

"Maybe not. But I can try. Buffy's will names me as Dawn's guardian. And the lawyer filed a motion to terminate your parental rights on the grounds of abandonment."

"What?" Hank took a step back, the shock clearly written on his face. "You're actually going to take me to court over this?"

"If I have to. I'd rather not." Giles slipped off his glasses and leaned back against the conference table. "Mr. Summers, your daughter still loves you. She told me as much. She told me she wanted to visit you and spend time with you. I just don't think she wants to live with you."

"No court in the land would give you custody."

Anya stepped forward, just behind Giles. "I don't think any court will give custody to a father who hits his daughter."

"Excuse me," Hank sized her up, obviously wondering how many more people were going to step up in Giles' defense. "I have never laid a hand on-"

"I saw you hit her not five minutes ago. Didn't you see it, Xander?"

Xander smiled wickedly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm pretty sure I saw him hit her, too."

"You two would lie for your friend here?"

Xander rolled his eyes in frustration. "You still don't get it, do you? This isn't about Giles. This is about Dawn. And yeah, I would lie for her."

Hank backed off and headed towards the front door, shaking one finger in Giles' direction. "This isn't over."

"No," Giles replied. "I imagine that it's only beginning."

Xander waved the man off with one finger of his own.

The door closed, and Giles released the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. "You both went a little over the top at the end there. I hope you're not seriously considering crying abuse."

"Why not?" Anya asked.

"Because the man could just as easily do the same to me," Giles snapped. "And there are a helluva lot more skeletons in my closet to support his claim."

"Never thought of that." Xander looked repentant. "I wouldn't worry too much. I think we just scared him a little. Hopefully, when he cools down, he'll see things your way, about what's best for Dawn."

"I wouldn't count on it." Giles started back to the training room to fetch Dawn and the others. He stopped halfway and turned back to the young man who had so vehemently defended him. "Thank you, Xander. For what you said before."

Xander shrugged. "It was all true, you know."

Giles smiled, his eyes slightly misty. He crossed to the backroom and entered. How strange to have people in Buffy's room. He was perhaps the only one who came in here after she died. The room still seemed to resonate with her presence, the sounds of their training sessions still echoing in his ears, the smell of sweat mingled with perfume still lingering in the air, their many conversations clearly recalled by the near perfect memory of a watcher. It was an exceptionally good training room, and the remains of their gang certainly needed to train if they were to patrol in Buffy's place. But Giles never offered up this room for their use, nor did any of them ask. When they trained, they trained at Dawn's house or Xander's apartment. This was Buffy's room, and for anyone else to use it seemed a dishonor.

Tara and Willow looked up expectantly at his entrance. Dawn was curled up on the couch between them, her face buried in Willow's shoulder as the redhead stroked her back tenderly.

"Dawn," he called softly, but she didn't turn to him, didn't move, just muttered something unintelligible. "I'm sorry. Can you repeat that?"

"Are you mad at me?"

Giles knelt in front of the girl, his hand on her knee, thumb stroking lightly. "Why would I be mad at you?"

She sniffled and brushed tears from her face. Still she didn't look at him. "Dad yelled at you, didn't he? 'Cause of what I said? I know I shouldn't have said anything, but I didn't want to go to Spain or to LA or anywhere, and dumb old Susan kept talking to me like we were best friends or something. And I know you probably think I should live with my dad. It would probably be better for you. You could have your apartment back and your life back and you wouldn't have to worry about some stupid 14-year old kid."

"No, Dawn, look at me." She turned watery eyes towards him. "You're not stupid. And I'm not mad at you. If you want to stay with me, then that's what I want too."

"Really?"

"Really." He smiled for her, and she managed to frown less.

"Dad hates you now, though, doesn't he? And it's my fault. He got mad when I said I was staying. He said that you were taking advantage of me, that you were turning me against him, putting ideas in my head. He said you were just a lonely old man who was using me so he wouldn't miss Buffy so much. And I told him that he was the one who was using me so he wouldn't feel so guilty about not being there for Buffy. And I told him…" She ducked her head down, found her fingernails suddenly very fascinating. Her voice got very small. "I told him you were a better father than he was."

Giles found he had no voice to respond to that. He simply gathered the girl in his arms and held her tight to his chest for long moments. Rupert Giles was not generally a physically demonstrative man. His own father had been a proper British watcher and his mother a submissive and formal lady. So as a grown man, Giles tended to show affection with actions or words, maybe an occasional touch on the hand or back. In the five weeks since Buffy died, he could think of maybe three times he had held Dawn like this, and every time one or both of them had been crying.

Now Giles hugged Dawn close not out of comfort or grief, but simply to show her what, for once, his words would fail to convey.

After a moment, he released her and stood, tipping his head back towards the door. "Your father's gone for now. Shall we rejoin Anya and Xander?" Tara and Willow were smiling at him, Willow wiping away tears of her own.

The four of them walked out of the training room, Dawn shyly curling her hand into his as they did. He gave it a squeeze, then sent her to the corner store for a newspaper. He didn't really need a copy of the local paper; it rarely had anything of value or truth, just stories of gang activities and people falling on barbecue forks. But he did want Dawn out of the shop for a minute. They would probably all be researching until time for patrol, and Dawn would be here with them. It was vitally important that she not overhear anything about Buffy's empty grave or the possibility that her sister could soon be a vampire. Willow came up with the code name Rumplestilskin, mostly because it was the first name she thought of and Dawn had walked back in the shop before anyone had a chance to improve upon it.

* * *

Empty pizza boxes were stacked next to the cash register. The store had closed promptly at 7pm. Now it was nearly 9, and the sun was starting to set.

Dawn lounged on the floor in a beanbag, playing with the Game Boy Xander had leant her. Occasionally Anya leaned over to watch and offer helpful suggestions on strategy. One of the others would always remind her that she was supposed to be helping them research.

Dawn had been overly polite and good-natured all evening, especially towards Giles. She did as she was told without question, never argued, and tried to anticipate what any of the others wanted of her. Giles suspected he could ask her to clean out the storage room and she would do it without complaint. He knew where her desire to please was coming from, and he would have a talk with her later about it. He would tell her she didn't have to be perfect to stay with him. But for now, he needed to focus on defeating Marcus and Nicole, and Dawn's new attitude just made things easier.

"Giles?" Willow was holding an open book in her hands, and she was practically beaming. "Umm… I know we're not supposed to be researching… Rumplestilskin… right now. But I think I found something."

Dawn looked up from her Game Boy. "There's a vampire named Rumplestilskin?"

Giles slipped off his glasses. "We'll be leaving for patrol in an hour or so, Dawn. Could you go back in the training room and pull out supplies for all of us? Crossbows and bolts for each of us. Stakes, crosses, holy water. And don't play with the crossbows, or the swords. You could hurt yourself."

Dawn wasn't a stupid girl. She knew she was being gotten rid of. She probably even knew it before, when he sent her for the paper. Yesterday even, she might have called him on it, protested that she knew what went bump in the night in Sunnydale and that she could handle whatever they were talking about. Today, she dutifully went back in the training room and left them to talk in private.

"What do you have, Willow?" Giles asked as he leaned over the table.

"I know we're supposed to be figuring out where Marcus and Nicole might be hiding out, how to stop them. But I just had to try."

"What is it?"

Willow passed him the book. "A spell, not a curse. It was used for possession, spirit channeling. But if we drop off the parts about displacing the host's soul, I think we can put Buffy's soul back in her body."

Tara frowned. "I don't know, Willow. Bringing Buffy back… It's messing with the natural order of things."

"No, it's not. I mean, it's not a resurrection spell." Willow took her lover's hands, almost pleading with her. "If Marcus does his spell, he won't be raising Buffy from the dead, he'll be turning back time, so she's still alive. And then we just call her back to this world, open a window so she can get back in her body. Marcus' spell ends, but the body won't die, because it's got a soul in it."

"Could this really work?" Xander was looking towards Giles, waiting for his assessment.

"Theoretically, yes." Giles was focusing on the page, trying to sort out his thoughts. "But the risks are too great. I don't think we dare."

"Why not?" Anya asked.

Giles took a deep breath, set the book on the table, laid his hands on either side of it. "Marcus' spell will last mere minutes. In that time you will have to call Buffy back, open the window so she can return into her body, and somehow prevent Marcus or Nicole from turning her. Your timing would have to be impeccable and even then, I don't think you'll have enough time."

"But we have to at least try," Willow countered.

Giles sighed, pulled his cup of cold tea towards him, and then pushed it away again. He glanced back towards the training room to see if Dawn were lurking nearby. Finally, he met Willow's eyes. "The time it takes this spell to call a soul back depends on how far the soul has gone. If we knew perhaps that Buffy were here with us right now, that she would be waiting next her body when you started the spell, maybe then there would be time. But for all we know, she has already crossed over to whatever comes after this life. If she has gone that far, it could take as much as an hour or more for her to return, and she would be too late."

"But we have to try," Willow said again.

"Willow, if you call Buffy back, and she isn't able to get back in her body, her soul could be lost forever or trapped here." Giles paused. He was trying to focus on the dry facts, the intellectual puzzle. But this was Buffy they were discussing. His throat constricted just thinking about it. He took a sip of cold tea and grimaced. "I like to think that wherever Buffy is now, she's at peace. I don't think I could take the risk of doing this to her. Could you?"

He heard the thud as the training room door shut. Willow shook her head and lowered her eyes.

Dawn strolled up next to him, taking in the pensive expressions surrounding her, but choosing not to pry. "Supplies all around. Five neat stacks. You did say you were all going patrolling tonight, right? Anything else you guys need?"

Giles stood and stretched. "Just to take you home, where you will stay put until I return. Come on, then."

* * *

Buffy had tried. Every moment since she had woken beside an empty grave she had tried. She had followed Giles around like his shadow, waiting for him to fall asleep. She had spent the whole frickin' night standing over his bed with her ghostly hands wedged in his brain. The best she got out of him was a shiver and an attempt to curl deeper under the covers. She knew he was dreaming. She could see it when he turned or mumbled or his eyes darted all around under his lids. But she couldn't get into any of his dreams.

_It was just a fluke,_ that voice whispered to her. _You'll never get in his dreams again._

She tried to shut out the fear and doubt. Instead, she went to the others. Xander, Anya, Willow, Tara, Dawn. Even Spike. She would touch each of them as they slept, at the moment she could see they were dreaming.

Nothing.

As she watched their research unfold, the fear began to stalk her. Someone had her body. Someone was going to make her a vampire. Maybe she should have gone into the light when she had the chance, because this certainly had to be hell. To watch her body desecrated, turned into one of the unholy creatures she was made to fight. To be forced to watch as a demon in her body took human life, possibly the lives of those she loved.

And then Willow's spell. The possibility that she could be channeled back into her living body, given a second chance at life.

_I'm here! I'm right here!_ She had wanted to shout it at them. _Do the spell! Do the spell! It will work._

And Giles. She wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him until his teeth rattled, until she could jog his memory, make him remember his dream.

_Giles, I came to you in your dream. You have to remember. I told you I was a ghost. I told you I was watching over all of you. You have to remember. You have to believe it was real._

That night she tried again. She visited them each in their sleep. It was the last chance she would get. The next night was the full moon. Marcus would do his spell, for better or worse, and Buffy would not be able to affect the outcome. Her only chance was to reach one of them in their dreams, convince them she was real and that Willow should do the spell.

All night she tried, and still nothing.

Next: Part 5: The Spell


	5. The Spell

ORIGINALLY POSTED: June 23, 2001  
TITLE: Death Brings Clarity  
AUTHOR: JK Philips  
RATING: PG-13 (swearing)  
SUMMARY: From "Spiral" to "The Gift" followed by my own attempt to put things right.  
Giles has a moment of clarity, but it's too late. How he deals with Buffy's death and how  
she comes back to him.  
SPOILERS: Everything up to "The Gift"  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon,  
Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.

* * *

Part 5: The Spell

His breakfast sat untouched. Giles had a throbbing headache this morning, and Dawn wasn't helping any.

"The one time I actually _want_ to do something for school, and you won't let me? It's bad enough I have to go to summer school. I should at least be able to do the fun stuff that goes with it. _Please_. I actually have friends that are going to be on this trip."

Giles massaged his temples and took another sip of tea. "No. There is something very important happening tonight, Dawn, and I don't want you out of the house. Especially not after dark."

"It's like two hours in the observatory and planetarium with like 30 other kids. How dangerous can that be? Oh, there'll be teachers there, too." Dawn watched him with her best puppy dog eyes as she pushed her eggs around her plate.

"I said no. Please don't argue with me. And eat your breakfast; you're going to be late."

Dawn sighed and dropped her head in her hands. It would certainly be the end of the world if she didn't get to go on her class field trip. She had a sudden thought. "What if they fail me?"

"They're not going to fail you." Giles dumped his uneaten breakfast in the trash and laid his plate in the sink.

"They could. This is all going to be on a test. The field trip was mandatory."

Giles returned to his cup of tea. "Then tell your teacher that I will take you stargazing another night."

Dawn frowned. "Is this because I didn't want you to chaperone? 'Cause they might still have room."

Giles laughed. He reached out one hand and cupped her chin, tilting it up to meet his gaze. "This is because I don't want you out after dark tonight. I want you here in the house where I'll know you'll be safe." He walked out of the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, "Five minutes, Dawn, and then we have to leave."

She sulked the entire drive to school, not even saying goodbye as she climbed out of the car.

_Well, it seems her mood has certainly changed from yesterday. Last night I could do wrong. This morning I'm her jailer._

The others were already waiting for him at the magic shop. They had until nightfall to figure out where Marcus and Nicole were and where they planned to perform the ritual. The earliest the vampires could cast the spell would be midnight, when the moon would be at its peak. The power would wane after that, so Marcus would try to time it as close to midnight as possible. If they couldn't dust the pair before then, in all likelihood they would be fighting Buffy as well. Giles vowed they would find them before midnight.

The morning passed with no luck. Morale was sinking lower. Anya actually missed a customer who had stepped up to the register to pay. Tara took their money, and then drifted back into her own research. Xander even tried beating up Willy the Snitch, but he was much less intimidating without Buffy behind him. Xander gave up fifty bucks, but Willy didn't know anything either.

Giles tried Spike's crypt, careful to leave out the parts about Buffy. He wasn't entirely sure that Spike wouldn't be just as satisfied with an undead Buffy. But Spike hadn't heard of a vampire watcher and slayer in town and had no idea where they might be staying. He asked after Dawn, and Giles mentioned that he knew Spike hung around the house watching her. Spike shrugged it off as a promise to Buffy, then bent over to light his cigarette, mostly so Giles wouldn't notice him brush away tears. The two men stood in awkward silence for a few moments, before Giles escaped out into the sunlight.

Willow picked Dawn up from school. No one seemed to know how to act around her. It was nearly as bad as when they discovered she was the Key. When she approached any of them, they would hurriedly set aside whatever they were working on and force themselves into an overly cheerful mood. And everyone called her "Dawnie" way too much.

"Is this about that Rumplestilskin vampire? 'Cause if this is one of those fairy tales are real deals, I don't think he's all that scary. Isn't he supposed to be like three feet tall?"

The others got real quiet. Giles steered Dawn to the back storage room. "I just got a new shipment in this morning. Anya and Tara are otherwise occupied. Do you think you could unpack the boxes and shelve the merchandise for me?"

Dawn crossed her arms and looked at the stack of boxes standing against the wall. "I know you're just trying to get rid of me, so I don't find out about the big important thing that's happening tonight."

"Well, then humor me," Giles said, as he handed her a pocketknife to cut off the packing tape. "Ask me or Anya if you don't know where something goes."

He left her in the back room and rejoined the others who were desperately trying to figure out how to prevent her sister from becoming a creature of the night. Dawn came in and out as she restocked incense and crystals, amulets and herbs, tarot cards and idols. She even managed shelving the new books under the crazy alphabetical system Xander had found so difficult. Giles realized some time later that Dawn hadn't reemerged in over an hour. He went in the back to check on her and found her sitting next to a broken Aztec statue, crying.

He knelt beside her, began collecting the broken pieces. "It's all right, Dawn. It's only a priceless antique. Nothing to cry over. Probably would have just collected dust anyway." He turned one piece over in his hand, looked at it a bit closer. "Ah, see there, it's a knockoff besides. No wonder it came so cheaply. I'll have to talk to my supplier about this. He assured me this was a genuine..." Giles trailed off as he remembered the crying girl on the floor next to him. "Yes, well, never mind about that. Dawn, it's okay, really. Accidents happen. You think this is the first thing that's gotten broken in this store? Anya and Willow trashed the whole place while I was in England, and I've very nearly forgiven them for it."

Dawn sniffled and wiped her tears away on her sleeve. "It's not about the statue."

"Then why the tears?"

She hugged her legs to her chest and dropped her head to her knees. "Dad called last night, after you guys went on patrol." She paused, and then asked very softly, so Giles had to bend closer to hear, "Can he really take me away from you?"

Giles smoothed back her long brown hair, pulled her in close to him, and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. He couldn't bring himself to lie to her. "Probably. He is your father."

Giles could see the tears pooling in her eyes as she drew away from him. She leaned her head back against the wall behind her, her eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling paint. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Dad moved to Sunnydale, but I don't want to go away. What if I never see any of you guys again? I don't think I could stand it."

"LA's only two hours away. I think we'd manage to visit."

"But Spain's a lot farther. It'd be too hard to visit me in Spain. I wouldn't ever see any of you again."

"Dawn, I think your father's planning on moving-"

"No," she interrupted loudly, slamming her hands on the ground beside her, the grief in her voice giving way to anger. "That was before, when Buffy was here. But now it's just me, and Dad said there's nothing for him to move back for. He said work is going so much better over there that coming back to his LA office would be like taking five steps back." The tears she had held at bay now overflowed, and she was crying again. She looked so much younger at that moment, as she turned bright terrified eyes towards him.

"I'm trying to be brave. I am. That's what Buffy told me to do before she died. To be brave. But I'm so scared, Giles. First Mom, then Buffy. I just _can't_ lose all of you, too. I just _can't_. I think I finally get what Buffy meant when she said that the hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Because having to go live with my dad in Spain would be _hard_."

Something clicked inside Giles' mind. Past Dawn's grief and her terror, something in her words just clicked.

_I told Dawn that the hardest thing in this world is to live in it._

He slipped his hand under her chin, tipped her teary face up to his. "What did you say, Dawn?"

The urgency in his tone and his face startled her out of her crying jag. She blinked up at him a few times before answering. "It would be really hard to have to live in Spain with Dad."

"No, before that. What did Buffy say to you before she died?"

"Up on the platform, before she jumped. She told me to take care of her friends. That we should take care of each other. That I should be strong. That the hardest thing in this world is to live in it. And then she told me to be brave and to live for her."

The words from his dream echoed in his head.

_I told Dawn that the hardest thing in this world is to live in it._

_I'm real. I'm a ghost, and I've been watching over all of you._

_Live for me._

He closed his eyes as he worked through the implications. He couldn't have known so precisely what Buffy had said to Dawn before she died. The only people who knew that were Dawn and Buffy. The chances that his subconscious mind could have arrived at those final words so exactly, well lottery odds wouldn't be an unfair comparison. Could Buffy have really visited him in his dream? Could she really be watching over them now?

He opened his eyes and smiled at Dawn. His thumb brushed the tears from her cheeks, and then he leaned forward and kissed her again on the forehead. "Come on, luv, get yourself together and then come out to the shop. I need to get you home, so the rest of us can get things ready for tonight."

Giles strolled into the shop, a spring in his step that had been lacking for five weeks. He grabbed his keys from under the register, tossing them in his hand as he called out to the others, "I'm taking Dawn home now. I'll be back in fifteen minutes."

The rest of the Scoobies traded glances around the table, clearly baffled by his light mood. Dawn followed behind him a moment later, picking up her backpack and heading towards the front door. She looked as confused as the rest of them. Giles slipped over to Willow's side and whispered in her ear, "Get whatever you need together for that spell."

Willow did a doubletake as he walked passed her. She hadn't found her voice until he'd nearly made it to the door. "Giles? Are you sure?"

He held the door open for Dawn and called back as he left, "Positive."

Dawn climbed in the passenger seat, studying Giles' profile carefully. Nearly five blocks from home, she finally asked, "So crisis over?"

"Hmmm?" His thoughts had been spinning with the possibilities. He had completely forgotten about Dawn sitting at his side.

"Whatever big crisis that was brewing, whatever had everyone so wound up. Is it over now? 'Cause you seem a lot happier."

"Things are certainly looking up." He pulled into the drive and led the way into the house.

Dawn followed him warily, still skeptical of his good mood. Maybe this was what people were like when they were possessed. Maybe she should say something to Willow.

Giles turned to her, held her by both shoulders, and gave her a very serious stare. "Now Dawn, listen to me. This is very important. I know it's not even..." He glanced at the clock behind her. "Not even four o'clock. But I have to leave you home alone for the rest of the night. I told you something important would happen tonight, and we have to be ready for it. I can't explain more now, and I can't have you at the store while we're working. But I promise you, I'll tell you anything you want to know tomorrow. Now can I trust you? Will you be okay here without me?"

Dawn nodded.

Giles smiled again and this time it was contagious. "Now you have the number at the store. Call if there are _any_ problems. And here..." Giles pulled a twenty from his wallet. "Order in pizza or something for dinner. But..." He wagged one finger at her. "Don't invite the delivery man in. Just take it through the door."

"I know, I know."

Giles smiled again. It was as if he couldn't stop. "I just need a minute alone, Dawn. Okay? I'll be right down."

She watched him go upstairs and then pause before entering Buffy's bedroom. _That should nix his good mood in a hurry,_ she thought.

She was partly right. Walking into Buffy's room made the reality of what he was contemplating come crashing in on him. What if he was wrong? What if the dream had been nothing more than a dream, and he was seeing what he wanted to see in it? Then his mistake could very likely cost Buffy her soul.

He looked around her room, untouched since she left it to fight Glory. Clothes scattered across the floor, her closet a mess. He picked up the red shirt she had been wearing the day her mother died. He could imagine her digging through her clothes, looking for something to dress the Buffybot in, and discarding this shirt because it had been the one she was wearing that day. He looked around at the other scattered clothes, remembered times she had worn this or that. She probably didn't think he noticed her clothing, but a watcher was trained to observe and remember.

Giles wandered past her dresser. His fingers lingered over her diary. He wondered if Dawn had read it. He wondered if Buffy would be angry if she had. He touched the small ice skating figurine sitting atop a music box. A sweet reminder of a childhood that ended all too quickly. He thought of her 18th birthday, how she had tried to ask him to the ice show, how he had been too preoccupied with the Test to notice at the time. How he wished he could go back and change things, prevent that most terrible betrayal of her, and take her to the ice show instead.

He turned towards her bed. The covers were rumpled. Dawn slept in here sometimes. Giles envied her that. For him to sleep in Buffy's bed would be an inappropriate intimacy. But how sweet would that be, to fall asleep surrounded by her and to wake the same? He wondered if he would have a night without dreams in her bed.

He sat on the edge of the bed. He buried his face in her red shirt, breathed deeply of her scent, and then let it drop to the floor. He bowed his head as a man in prayer might.

"Buffy," he said aloud. "I don't know if you're in this room with me, watching. I want to believe that you are.

"I've never been what you could call religious. After everything we've seen, I have to believe in a higher power. But I can't remember the last time I've prayed. It would feel a bit hypocritical of me now to pray to a God I can barely conceive of, a God who would send children out night after night to fight and die against creatures that would give grown men nightmares, a God who would ask you to choose between your life and your sister's.

"I can't pray to Him. I'm still too angry, too hurt. So I want... I _need_... to pray to you.

"Buffy, there's a chance, a small chance that we can bring you back alive and whole. I'm taking a big risk. I'm hoping that you did come to me that night in my dream and that I'm not just deluding myself. What you said to me then, the exact words you said to Dawn. I have to believe that's not just coincidence. But it might be. Or you might have moved on since then. It's been a couple days. Or the spell might not work, or we might get the timing wrong, or Marcus might turn you before we can stop him.

"Oh, Buffy..." His voice broke then and his eyes lifted, as if he might see some sign that she were there. He lowered his head again and closed his eyes. "Buffy, if I'm wrong, if I mess this up, I could cost you your soul. I wish I knew what you wanted me to do. Maybe I'm just being selfish by even wanting to try. But I remember you always took the biggest risks. You were never one to play it safe." He chuckled. "Not even when I wanted you to. I imagine you wouldn't like to play it safe in death either. I hope I'm right about that.

"Buffy, I'm asking you to forgive me for what I'm about to do. For gambling with your soul. If I fail, if you're gone or trapped because of me, I just want to tell you right now... I love you. You are my reason, my purpose, my _life_, my Slayer, my Buffy.

"And I swear to you, I will watch over Dawn, her children, her grandchildren maybe. I'll watch over her until the end of my days. I'll even go to goddamn Spain if I have to. Your sister will be fine. I swear it."

He took a shaking breath then, and stood. His eyes traveled across the room one last time, across her things. He placed his hand over his heart. "Amen," he said softly.

And then he took the onyx pinky ring from his left hand, the ring that he had worn since becoming a watcher, the ring that never left his finger. He took his ring, kissed it, and laid it gently on her nightstand.

* * *

The plan formed over the rest of the afternoon and evening. The only missing piece was the location of the ritual. They had to get to Marcus and Nicole before they could turn Buffy. And so they continued researching. Through Marcus' diaries, through every reference to Marcus and Nicole's vampire exploits, looking for some pattern that would hint where they might be staying or where they were likely to practice magic. But the only pattern seemed to be the lack of a pattern. The two vampires had stayed in everything from dank crypts to posh mansions. They could be anywhere in Sunnydale, perhaps even outside of Sunnydale.

"Ok, I have these babies all programmed and charged up," Willow was saying. "Here's yours, Giles."

She handed him a small cell phone. He looked at it with something approaching dread. Willow leaned over him and demonstrated how to operate it. "Tara and I have one. That's one on your speed dial. Remember, one for your number one witches." Willow smiled, and Giles rolled his eyes. "Just press the button for a second, and the phone will dial for you. Anya and Xander each have one. They're two and three on your speed dial. Two for Anya, because she's your number two in the store. And three for Xander, because he's... he's..." She thought for a moment.

Xander jumped in. "Because he's got three of the silliest girl friends in the world?"

"Ok, that works. And Dawn at the house is four on your speed dial. Because..."

"Because we're doing this 'four' her?" Giles finished sarcastically.

Willow patted him on the shoulder. "Now you're getting in the spirit. Should I quiz you?"

Giles slipped the phone in his jacket pocket. "I am a watcher, you know, Willow. Memory is not generally an issue."

"Oh Ick!" Anya cried from behind them.

The other Slayerettes turned to see what the problem was. She was making a face, deeply engrossed in her book.

"What is it, An?" Xander asked, startling her. She obviously hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud.

"I'm reading one of these journals from the year Marcus turned Nicole." Anya flipped the book closed for a moment, holding her place, and looked at the cover. "Helena Collins, COW. Why would any woman call herself a cow?"

Giles sighed. "It stands for Council of Watchers. Please go on."

"Oh, right. Anyway, she talks about the murder of Nicole's brother. I just thought it was pretty brutal, and I was a vengeance demon. Do you think Marcus did it? Or did Nicole kill her own brother?"

Giles considered her question for a moment. "It's not unheard for vampires to kill their family or friends, sometimes even turn them as well. I believe I remember reading that Angelus killed his entire family." Giles tried to sound casual when he said it. He tried to push back the memory of those long hours of torture when Angelus had described for him in graphic detail just how he had killed each member of his family, had demonstrated on Giles some of the things he had done to them before they died.

"Great," Anya said. "Does that mean if Buffy becomes a vampire, she's gonna try to kill all of us?"

"I don't think that's what happened to Nicole's brother," Willow said. She was thinking hard, chewing absently on one fingernail, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Something about this ritual has been bothering me all day. I think I know what it is. Every other resurrection spell I've come across needs something from the deceased or their family. A picture, or a lock of hair, or a personal item, or _something_. And this spell doesn't mention anything like that."

Suddenly Willow gasped, her eyes wide as saucers. "Giles, it has to be sanctified in blood. I think it meant _blood_ blood as in blood kin. Giles, I think Marcus needed the blood of Nicole's brother to do the spell."

"Dawn!" Giles had his keys and was halfway out the door before they could react. He stopped in the doorway, pointed back at Willow. "Get Dawn on the phone. Keep her on the phone. Make sure she doesn't leave the house."

Giles had wondered what more could go wrong in his life. Now he knew.

* * *

Hank and Susan were waiting for him in the living room. A man he didn't recognize was standing by the fireplace.

Hank rose and headed Giles off in the foyer, his demeanor barely civil. "Mr. Giles, this is Harold Cates, my attorney. If we could all sit down and discuss-"

"I don't have time for this," Giles snapped. "Where is Dawn?"

"I took her to the observatory for her field trip. She said you wouldn't let her go."

Giles turned on his heel and was out the front door, Hank chasing him down the driveway.

"Mr. Giles, if you think you can keep my daughter under some kind of house arrest just because you're afraid I'm going to take her-" Hank grabbed for Giles' arm, but if he thought he could hold up the other man through sheer physical intimidation, he had yet to meet Ripper. Giles shoved him backwards, _hard_, hard enough to send Hank sprawling on his butt on the front lawn. Giles jumped in his car, slamming the door shut.

Hank was not going to give up. The top to the BMW was down, and before Giles could start the car, Dawn's father was back on his feet and leaning into the car over him. "You don't think I know what this is about. I know what you're after. My daughter's trust fund is worth close to quarter of a million. If I have custody, you won't be able to touch it."

Giles had finally reached his limit. He grabbed a fistful of Hank's shirt and pulled him closer, feeding him his best Ripper glare. It was the look of a man that had survived demons, vampires, gods, torture, and seven apocalypses, more or less, and wasn't going to be threatened by a little man like Hank Summers. "If _anything_ happens to that child, I swear to God you are going to wish you had never come to Sunnydale." He released Hank, rather abruptly, and the man stumbled backwards. "One more thing. I may not be able to stop you from taking Dawn, but the house is mine not hers. So I have every right under the law to demand that you not be in it when I return."

Giles started the car and backed out of the driveway with all the power his "ultimate driving machine" could muster.

"Good show, Giles," he muttered to himself as he broke every speed limit. "And in front of the man's lawyer, no less. I'm sure that little display will be quickly filed in a brief under 'violent tendencies' and 'reckless behavior.'"

Right now that didn't matter. Right now all that mattered was getting to Dawn before Marcus and Nicole could. Otherwise, the debate over custody would be rather pointless.

* * *

Her teachers were sure they had seen her in the back row of the planetarium. The staff were in the middle of giving a presentation to the students before moving them on to the observatory and its high-powered telescopes. The theatre was pitch black, only false starlight and moonlight illuminating the rows of nearly empty seats. Thirty-some students scattered across the space meant for 200, all of them fully reclined back to view the night sky projected above them. It meant he couldn't see anyone at a distance, had to search each row, get up close to each reclining student before he could see that they weren't Dawn.

He called softly for her, asked each person he passed if they had seen her. Behind him, a teacher droned on about light traveling over time. The light from Vega, over twenty-five years old. The light from Antares, more than five hundred and twenty. Each prick of light like a window to the past. Very soon Giles would have his own window to the past. Which star would show him the light from five weeks ago? Which was the window to the night Buffy died? And if he failed here tonight, would the light in his heart go out like a dead star, would his life be nothing but darkness?

Giles was beginning to get frantic. He turned his watch until it caught the moonlight. 10:07. He looked up at the dome above him, with its artificial sky and moon, and wondered how far the full moon had risen in the real night sky. Less than two hours until the ritual.

He backtracked down the aisle he had just come from, aiming for the seats on the other side of the theater, the ones he hadn't checked yet. A teenager in an aisle seat he had passed a moment earlier flagged him down.

"Hey, Mister, you that English dude who brings Dawn to school?"

"Yes," Giles answered, kneeling beside the boy's chair. "Have you seen her?"

The student ignored him and turned towards his friend, punching the other teenager in the arm. "I told you that other guy wasn't him."

His friend just shrugged and shoved back, but Giles was dragging the first boy around by the arm to face him.

"What other guy?"

The teenager wrenched his arm from Giles' grasp, smoothed out the fabric of his shirt, and scowled at the older man. "There was another guy in here. He had an accent like yours too. 'Bout a half hour ago, he was in here asking around for Dawn. I told Rick he wasn't you. That guy was dressed all funky, like Obi wan Kenobe or something with the weird robe thing going on. I told Rick the guy who brings Dawn to school is too much of a tight-ass to dress like that." The young teen looked down at Giles' Oxford shirt, his silk tie, his corduroy jacket, then looked back up with a raised brow and a smirk.

"Did she leave with him?"

"Yeah, I saw them go out the back door together."

Giles swore with such vehemence, that the teen next to him seemed to reconsider his evaluation of the "English dude."

Giles exited the observatory and planetarium, was dialing his cell phone as he jogged to his car. Marcus took Dawn at least a half hour ago. Christ, they could be anywhere by now, were probably ready to perform the ritual, and he had no idea where to even begin looking. Giles looked at his watch again: 10:15. They were running out of time.

The phone was ringing. Willow answered, sounding perhaps a bit surprised that Giles had figured out how to work his new toy. He started the car as he updated her, then asked her to bring everyone to the house. Somehow Marcus had known Dawn would be at the observatory for a field trip, had planned for it in fact. It was possible he had been watching them all this time, mapping out their routines and schedules. The Magic Box wouldn't be safe. The house, at least, would require an invite, so Willow and Tara would do their spell there. Oh, and be sure to bring weapons.

He hung up the phone, tossed it on the seat next to him. He white-knuckled the steering wheel, grinding his teeth in frustration, trying to focus on the road. He hoped Hank Summers had the sense to leave, because if he was still there when Giles walked in, he couldn't promise not to deck the man.

He arrived before the others, not surprising since he was driving close to 50 mph on the city streets. The lights had all been turned off, and the house was dark. It appeared Hank had more sense than Giles would have given him credit for.

He fished for his keys as he strode up the steps, remembering a moment later that Hank wouldn't have been able to lock up. He turned the door handle just as he felt something beneath his foot. He took a step forward and reached inside the doorway for the porch light.

Placed on the porch directly in front of the doorway:  
A folded piece of paper, now marked with the tread of Giles' shoe. On top Buffy's class ring, the one Dawn had taken to wearing on a chain around her neck. Next to it the silver cross Angel had given Buffy, the one she had been buried with. Giles pocketed them both and opened the note.

_Watcher- Midnight. The old school library. Alone. - M._

He heard Xander's car pull in behind his, but he was still standing in shock when they came up the steps.

"Giles?" Willow approached him, and he merely handed her the note. She read it and always the optimist, replied, "At least we know where they're doing the ritual now." She passed the note back to Xander and Anya.

"He has Dawn," Giles said simply.

Xander read the note, crumpled it in a ball, and threw it at a tree. "Does everything in this town have to happen over the Hellmouth? Why do we even bother with the research and patrol? We should just set up camp in the library."

"Hey guys," Tara broke in. "Maybe we should go inside. It is after dark."

They filed inside, carrying in the weapons they had brought, Giles still sullen and quiet. He leaned against the archway, next to the stairs.

"Okay, what I don't get," Anya said, "is why send Giles a note? I mean they have everything they need for the ritual: they have Buffy's body and Dawn's blood. We can't stop them if we don't know where they are. So why send Giles a note telling us where they are?"

"He wants me to come to him," Giles murmured. "He needs his matched set: Watcher and Slayer."

Giles padded up the stairs, leaving the rest in shocked silence.

When he returned, Xander was waiting for him at the bottom.

"You're not actually thinking of going are you? By yourself? 'Cause I thought watchers were generally supposed to be smart."

"I don't have a choice, Xander. He has Dawn."

It was then that the young man noticed what Giles was doing with his hands. "Oh. My. God. Where did you get that? You know, unless they started making wooden bullets, I don't think that's gonna do much for you."

Giles was loading a clip into a sleek 9mm semi-automatic pistol. He checked the safety and slipped it in his jacket pocket.

"Xander's right. You can't go alone. It's suicide." Willow was standing in front of the door. As if she could stop him.

Giles looked at each of them. "Marcus doesn't care whether Dawn lives or dies. But I don't think he'll kill her. He only needs some of her blood. He wants me, badly enough to make a trade, I'll wager. But if any of you come with me, he'll just as likely kill her. I need you to stay behind. I need you each to do your jobs. The plan, remember? Willow, you and Tara prepare to do your spell here in the living room. Wait for my signal. Xander, you and Anya-"

"Wait outside the school for you to get killed," Xander finished in disgust. "Don't you get it? He wants to turn you into a vampire!"

"That's why you have the most important job, Xander." Giles reached over and picked up one of the crossbows they had stacked in the foyer. He handed it to his young friend. "When Buffy and I come out of that school, if we aren't holding up crosses in our hands, you can't hesitate. A bolt through each of us."

"Oh, man," Xander whispered, as he turned the weapon over in his hands. "You gotta be kidding me."

"Anya," Giles said, handing a crossbow to her as well. "You watch over the back of the school. The same thing goes for you."

She nodded as she took it. "Ok. Wanna live. I can do this. I can shoot you."

Giles smiled. Gallows humor. "You needn't sound so pleased at the idea." The smile faded. Serious again. "When Dawn comes out, you get her somewhere safe and make her stay there." He didn't mention the possibility of Dawn being turned. He couldn't think about that. He just couldn't. Dawn would be fine. She had to be.

He looked Anya and then Xander straight in the eye. "Remember, both of you: If I walk out of there without a cross, I'll know the plan. I'll know where each one of you is, and I'll be coming after you. You can't hesitate, and you may only get one shot."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Anya asked. "Because I must say that you're not good with the pep talks."

Giles gave them each a hug. Willow began to cry, and he kissed her tenderly on the forehead, as he never would have done back in high school, as he never would have done even five weeks ago. "Shhh... Don't cry for me before I'm gone. Tomorrow this will all be over, and we'll all go out to celebrate at the nicest, most expensive restaurant in town. My treat."

Willow nodded, but she didn't look very convinced.

They waved him off at the door, looking for all the world like they knew they'd never see him again.

* * *

He parked in his usual spot. Over there was where Principal Snyder had parked. And over there Mr. Whitmore. Ms. Barton next to him. And right there was where Jenny had parked. Jenny. Maybe he would see her yet tonight. He wished it could take away the pain of knowing that, if he failed here tonight, Buffy would be gone, and he would never see her again. No, not even Jenny could fill that space.

He double-checked his pockets. Two large, thin crosses in his inside jacket pocket. One for him and one for Buffy. His gun in his right jacket pocket, a bottle of holy water and the cell phone in the other. Stakes secreted away in every place he could fit them. He leaned across to the glove compartment, pulled out two more crosses, and then slipped them in his other inside jacket pocket. No sense getting shot by Xander simply because he had lost his cross. For good measure, he took a third and fit it in the pocket with the 9mm.

He stepped out of his car, left the keys on the seat. Xander would take them when he came in a bit. If Giles was turned tonight, he didn't want to leave his demon self any avenue of escape. That was one feature of his new car that was a blessing. Giles lacked the skills to hotwire the more sophisticated system of a BMW.

He glanced over to the passenger side. He imagined that's where she would be standing. "Well, Buffy, here I go. Wish me luck."

He walked towards the remains of Sunnydale High, his back straight, his demeanor calm and resolved. He wasn't so vain that he couldn't admit he was scared. More scared perhaps than when he was tied to that chair in the mansion. More scared than when they had pulled him, bleeding and in agony, from the RV. More scared than when Buffy had gone to the fight the Master. More scared, because this time it wasn't just Buffy's life he had placed on the line, but her immortal soul.

He entered the burnt out ruins for the first time since his own hand had leveled the building. The residue of smoke and ash still hung in the air and burned the back of his throat. He picked his way through the familiar and yet changed hallways, the hair on the back of his head prickling with nerves and his right hand clenched tight around the 9mm in his pocket.

He stopped just inside the cafeteria. The plastic tables and chairs had melted to form abstract sculptures in various shades of ash gray. He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and pressed three for Xander.

"I'm in," he whispered. "I haven't encountered any other vampires. If we're lucky, it may just be Marcus and Nicole. You and Anya should come to the school now. Do a sweep of the whole area. Don't let anyone else get in the building."

He hung up and dialed Willow and Tara. He gave them a similar update, made sure they had everything ready for their own spell. "You'll have to start on my signal exactly, not before, not after. We want to give Buffy as much time as possible to get back in her body, but if we do it too soon, you'll force her into her dead body. When Marcus' spell takes effect, she would just be lost."

He didn't hang up this time, just slipped the phone in the breast pocket of his jacket, the mic facing out. He took the cross from beside the pistol, and switched it to his left hand. His right returned to cradle the gun.

He continued on towards the library. She was standing where the doors used to be, her back to him. She turned when he approached, her preternatural hearing either vampire or slayer or greater than the sum of both. Long legs, clad in black leather pants, strolled slowly towards him. She crossed her arms, the hem of her royal blue half top hiking further up her midriff. She had a good foot or more on Buffy, though in Nicole's face and the curves of her body, she was plainly a girl who had died at fifteen. Her long blond hair was braided, as it had been the night he had seen her in the cemetery. Giles was already planning how that waist length cord could be used against her in battle. Any watcher worth his salt would have asked her to cut it. Of course, if Nicole were anything like Buffy, she probably flatly refused.

"Uncle," she called with a grin. "Watcher's early."

Giles thrust the cross out in front of him, and she hissed as her game face slipped on. He forced her backwards into the library, holding her two feet ahead of him with the simple wooden cross.

His eyes searched for Dawn first and found her sitting near the space that had once been the stairs to the stacks. They had her bound, hand and foot, and gagged. Bloody bastards.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him. Giles imagined this is what Buffy must have felt when she had reached Dawn at the top of the scaffolding. Those eyes filled with such trust, such blind faith in him, and the certain knowledge that he would make everything all right. Giles knew that he would do anything, give anything, that was needed to justify that faith.

Buffy's words to him echoed in his head. _Then the last thing she'll see is me protecting her._

"Come here, Nicole." The voice was deep, resonant. A strong British accent with the slight lilt of a man who had spent years in France. "The Watcher is no threat to us."

Giles looked for the voice and found Marcus sitting in lotus position next to the crack above the Hellmouth. The man had been 56 when he died, dark black hair graying at the temples, body thin and gaunt from six years of mourning Nicole. But his sharp green eyes were cold and ruthless. If anything, his grief had strengthened the iron in those eyes. He swam in the dark burgundy cloak he had chosen for this occasion, giving the appearance of a devil who could not fit in a monk's robes.

Marcus smiled at him, a smile of genuine affection that turned Giles' blood cold. "Come here, my friend. Let us have a look at you. I've only seen you at a distance."

"We are not friends." Giles didn't move, didn't lower the cross.

"No. I would say we are almost brothers." Marcus rose with the grace and nobility of 18th century British aristocracy. He walked away from Dawn, towards the melted remains of the book cage. It was then that Giles first saw her, or what he imagined to be her. Marcus had at least had enough respect to cover Buffy's body with a sheet. Giles hoped he could save Dawn from the sight of her sister, dead and buried now for five weeks.

Marcus looked down over the still form beneath the sheet, and Giles tried to use his distraction to get to Dawn. But Nicole was faster and within moments was sitting behind Dawn, had pulled the girl into her lap no less. Nicole brushed her fingers through Dawn's hair, pulled it back from the girl's neck. The slayer retained the visage of the vampire as she ran her open mouth up and down the girl's neck, her demon yellow eyes never leaving Giles' as she teased him with the girl's life. Nicole's fangs scratched against the skin slightly, drawing the smallest drop of blood. She lapped it up, smiling at Giles as she did.

Dawn was crying, but her eyes never wavered from him, never faltered in her trust of him.

Giles focused again on Marcus, who was still standing over Buffy's dead body. The vampire sighed and then turned to study Buffy's watcher for a moment. "I saw her once, you know, when she was still alive. Three or four years ago, I think. She was magnificent in battle. I've made a point of looking up each slayer when I can, when they last long enough.

"Nearly two hundred years since my Nicole Called her replacement. And in that time there have been nearly a hundred slayers come and gone. Ninety-four to be exact. I think that averages out to about two years per slayer. Barely two years of fighting for a world that they will never live in. Two years is just an average. Some get more, like your Buffy. Some get less, like my Nicole. But all of them get far less than they deserve.

"Ninety-four slayers I have seen come and go, but none compare to your Buffy. You did know how exceptional she was, didn't you?"

"She was the best," Giles answered, still standing in the doorway, still bearing his cross like a shield. His gaze traveled back and forth between Marcus and Dawn.

"Yes, of course you knew. You were her Watcher." Marcus left Buffy's side, strolled back to the Hellmouth, and then turned to face Giles again. "I have been waiting for her for nearly two hundred years. For a slayer who could match my Nicole, who would be worthy of her. I knew it, when I saw your slayer that day. I knew it would be her. And so I have waited. I have learned what I could about you and her. Her friends. Her family. I have waited for her death, knowing that even for the best of slayers, I would not be waiting long."

Giles looked at the other watcher with contempt. "Were you too afraid to face her when she was alive? Did you already know that she would best you? Did you already know that your precious Nicole, who couldn't last six months as a slayer when she was alive, that she wouldn't last six minutes against Buffy now?"

He heard Dawn scream and the cocky arrogance drained out of him.

Nicole's hand had wrenched the girl's neck sharply to the side. Dawn's face scrunched up in pain and fear, as Nicole smiled and bared her fangs. "Watch your tongue, mortal. Or I might not watch mine." She licked Dawn from collarbone to ear, and then released her hold on the girl's head. Dawn dropped her chin to her chest as she sobbed.

"Now, Nicole," Marcus admonished. "Play nice. Dawn is very nearly your sister now." He focused again on Giles, as if they were friendly neighbors who had needed to stop gossiping long enough to bring unruly children back in line. "Now where was I? Ah, yes. Your rather unfair accusations. I think the pair of us could have taken your slayer if we had wanted. We could have turned her into one of us that very first night we saw her. But I have never killed a slayer. And I never will.

"Perhaps there is a bit of the watcher still left in me. I suspect, though, that it is more a reluctance to steal what precious little time these girls have or to cause another watcher the grief I lived with for so many years. No, I have never killed a slayer. Sometimes I have watched them die. Sometimes I have even saved them.

"You must know about the ritual by now. The Watcher's Council may be a bunch of heartless bastards, but they do train us well. I'm going to give you a gift, Rupert Giles. I'm going to give you back your Slayer. More than that, I'm going to give you both immortality, so you shall never be parted from her again."

Giles drew the 9mm semi-automatic pistol from his jacket pocket and released the safety. "Like hell you are."

He met Dawn's eyes again, tried to convey to her in a look that everything would be okay. Her wide eyes watched him, still reflecting her absolute faith in him. Again Buffy's words rang through his head. _Then the last thing she'll see is me protecting her._

Marcus laughed, as if Giles had pulled a good prank on him. "If you know about the ritual, then you know I only need some of the girl's blood. Doesn't matter if she's dead or alive when I take it. So go ahead and shoot her. Her death won't interfere with my plans."

"No, but mine will." Giles tipped the barrel up and placed it beneath his own chin.

Dawn screamed, and it cut straight to Giles' heart. He didn't want her to see this, but there was no other way. They couldn't make him a vampire if he were already dead. And if he pulled the trigger now, with the gun pressed beneath his chin, aimed back and up towards the base of his brain, if he pulled the trigger like this, he would be dead before he hit the floor.

Marcus knew all of this. He paled, if that were possible for a vampire, and then he asked, "Why? When I am giving you the very thing you have prayed for all these weeks?"

"Dawn walks out of here _now_. Or I pull the trigger."

Marcus narrowed his eyes. "You're bluffing. You're not going to kill yourself while the girl watches."

Giles' hand didn't even shake as it pressed the barrel closer against his neck, one finger poised over the trigger. No fear. No doubt. Just peace. Ripper had been quite the card shark in his youth, had earned his keep by it on occasion. Marcus would be able to read nothing in his expression. "You need me, Marcus. You can turn Buffy after I'm dead, but you'll have no influence over her without me. And all of this will have been for nothing. You want my Slayer? Then you need me."

Marcus nodded, conceding to Giles' logic. "All right. You win. But you'll of course allow me to take some of her blood. Not just because you can't stop me, but because you want me to finish this. You want me to perform the ritual. And after Dawn leaves, you'll willingly allow yourself to be turned. Because when your Buffy wakes, she will need her Watcher. And your duty will call to you, even then."

Giles did not lower his gun; he simply waited as Marcus walked to Nicole and Dawn, as he lifted the terrified girl to her feet. He produced a chalice and a knife from inside the folds of his robe. He sliced her arm in three places, holding the cup beneath to catch the flow. Giles could see that the cuts hurt, but he knew they were not serious. Dawn would be fine. She would live and walk out of here. And Xander and Anya would see that she was safe.

When the chalice was half-filled, Marcus set it aside. He removed the gag from her mouth and tied it around the wounds he had just inflicted. Then with the knife, he cut the bonds at her hands and her feet. He framed her face between his palms and bent her head, placing a kiss on her forehead, as if she were the daughter he had to let go.

He turned back to Giles, pulling Dawn against his chest and placing the knife against her throat. "Now, Rupert, come the rest of the way into the library. Go over and stand beside your slayer's body. I want to make sure you don't try to slip out with the girl when she leaves."

Giles did as instructed, the barrel of the gun beginning to bruise where he pressed it beneath his chin. "Okay, Marcus. Let her go."

The vampire removed the knife and gave her a shove towards the door. Dawn hesitated, like a deer caught in headlights. She froze, her eyes focused on Giles as she mouthed the word "no" over and over again without voice.

"Dawn, go on," he said gently. "Xander and Anya will be waiting outside for you."

She didn't move. She just shook her head, sobbing, her lips still forming the word "no" repeatedly. Giles realized that Dawn had reached her breaking point. Her mother. Buffy. Her father trying to take her to Spain. And now here he was, holding a gun to his own head as she watched. This was the second time someone had offered up their life for hers. It was too much for the girl, and she had snapped in front of his eyes. But he needed her to get moving _now._

"Dawn, I know it's hard, but you're going to be okay. You have to go now."

Her head shaking. _No, no, no, no, no, no, nononononono..._

"Dawn, I'm dead whether you go or stay. Please go. Let this mean something. Be brave. Live for me."

Her mouth closed, and then her eyes. When they opened again, there was acceptance.

Giles smiled for her, so like the final smile he had given Buffy as he lay dying in the gas station. "There's my girl. Go on, Dawn. I love you."

She still had no voice. She simply mouthed the words. _I love you._

And then she turned and was running as fast as her legs could carry her, was running out of the library and out of Giles' life forever.

"Now then," Marcus was saying, "The girl is safe, and you can put down the gun. We both know you're not going to shoot yourself now. We both know you're going to let me finish the ceremony and you're going to let us make you into one of us."

"How can you be so sure of that?"

"I know what it is to lose a slayer. The slayer is everything to her watcher, more than daughter, more than lover, more than mother or sister or friend. There is nothing else in your life that will ever match it. We have no choice. It's in our blood. For a thousand years upon a thousand years, the Watcher's Council bred us to it. Like cattle. Bred us to crave the slayer. To treasure her above all else. And then after she is gone, your life is hollow. There is no purpose, no meaning. It is as if she takes your very soul with her when she goes.

"You want her back. Would do anything to get her back. And when you have her back, it is the sweetest thing in the world."

Nicole had stepped beside her watcher, and he pulled her against him, kissed her on forehead and then each cheek until finally they kissed on the lips as lovers.

"You can put down the gun, Rupert, because I know your heart as well as my own."

Giles allowed the gun to fall, clicked the safety back on, and slipped it in his pocket.

"I have a request."

Marcus smiled. "He asks me nicely, as if we were friends. Perhaps there is hope for us after all."

Giles glanced down at the still form beneath the sheet. "I want it to be Buffy. If I'm to be turned into a vampire, I want Buffy to be my Sire."

Marcus nodded without deliberation. "It is appropriate. There is a connection between Sire and Childe. It will only deepen the connection that exists between Watcher and Slayer. I will allow it."

Giles sat down in the rubble beside Buffy's body. Not much time now. Marcus and Nicole joined him, sitting on either side, the three of them forming a strange circle around the body of the finest slayer of them all.

"I have great plans for the four of us."

Giles only raised one eyebrow.

"It will be different than Liverpool. It will work this time. Nicole and I were not enough. Mindless minions just can't get the job done. But two slayers and two watchers... We will destroy the Watcher's Council once and for all."

"Why?" Giles asked.

"Do you even need to ask? Think what will happen when there are no more watchers. There will be no one hunting down potential slayers, stealing their childhoods, and training them to be killers. There will be no one to tell the one Slayer that she must go out night after night to fight and possibly die. There will still be slayers, but they will not know their power or their destiny. They will make their own choices and live their own lives. Long, full lives. They will die of old age, tucked in their beds and surrounded by children and grandchildren. Think of it, my friend. We will free the slayers. You and I and ours. Your Buffy will be the last slayer to die performing her duty. Think of that legacy."

Giles shook his head. "I think the real Marcus Somerton, the human Marcus Somerton, would disagree with you. As do I.

"I don't know who came up with the idea of slayers and watchers. It isn't fair. I know it isn't fair to ask these girls to die to save the rest of us. It isn't fair, but it's necessary. Without them, the world would have been lost long ago. As a watcher, I can't prevent the inevitable. All I can do is hold it off as long as possible, to give her all my knowledge and training so she can do what she must do. I would give my life for hers, but there are times I don't have that choice. There are times when the Slayer must stand alone between us and total annihilation.

"And I think at those times, when given those choices, I think the Slayer is a willing sacrifice. God knows Buffy didn't choose her destiny. Sometimes she wished to be just a normal girl, whose biggest concern was what to wear to the Bronze on a Friday night. And more than once, she has even turned her back on her duty. But she has always come back. In the end, she has always accepted her destiny, embraced it as part of who she is. I think if you gave her a choice today between being the Slayer and being a normal girl, she would choose to be the Slayer. Because to refuse those gifts would be to refuse the greater part of herself."

Marcus chuckled darkly. "I think after you are turned, you will see things our way."

"I have no doubt of that. But it doesn't make what I've said any less true."

Marcus looked at his watch. Five minutes to midnight. Time to begin the ritual. "Nicole, fetch the blood."

Giles felt his heart begin to race, his palms to sweat, and his head to spin. _Dear, sweet Buffy, let this work. And if it doesn't, please forgive me for what I have done to you._

He stood back, near Nicole, as Marcus performed the ceremony. Dawn's blood, his magic, and Buffy's body. _Not too soon. Not too soon. Wait for it._

The incantations, the chanting, the incense, the markings in blood. They lasted until just a few minutes past midnight. Marcus lifted his arms and called out the final words of the spell. At the same time, Giles bent low and whispered into the cell phone, "Now, Willow!"

"Revertete tempum! Quid mortūus sum fīam vivus. Nunc! Nunc!" Marcus' words rang out through the bombed out shell of the library. The Hellmouth below them thrummed with the magic of his spell. _Reverse time! What was dead becomes living. Now! Now!_

Giles watched as Buffy's form began to glow. Slowly, the weeks of death lifted from her appearance, her sunken cheeks becoming full, her dull pallor regaining its color, the blue of her lips turning to pink. And then he saw her chest rise with breath, her muscles twitch with life. The glow surrounding her flashed a brilliant blue and then was gone. Lying there before him was Buffy, alive and beautiful. She looked as if she were sleeping and nothing more.

Giles had waited for this moment, prepared himself for it. His left hand had unscrewed the cap of the holy water while in his pocket. Now he pulled it out and moved to throw it on Marcus before he could come near Buffy.

If he had prepared for this moment, then Nicole had expected it. She was fast, faster than a slayer, faster than a vampire. She was greater than the sum of both. She had his arm and was throwing him against the wall, the holy water spilling out of his hand and onto the ground. Some dripped on her arm, and she screamed as it burned her skin, but still she didn't let go of him. The flask was empty. She still held him by one arm, and now the other took him by the throat, shoved him into the mangled book cage behind him. She held him there by hand and throat. Giles was helpless. He could only watch in misery as Marcus bent over Buffy's living form.

_I'm sorry. Buffy, my love, I'm so sorry. I've failed you. I've cost you everything in this life and the next._

Marcus transformed into his vampire mask, opened his mouth over her neck.

And then Buffy's eyes opened.

_Dear God above, her eyes were opening._

"You know, you shouldn't take things that don't belong to you."

Her voice was the sweetest sound that he had ever heard.

And bam- she had head butted the vampire leaning over her. Marcus stumbled back as Buffy flipped onto her feet. "Especially other people's bodies." Wham- she kicked him right in the chest. He landed flat on his back several feet from her. "People get really touchy about things like that."

Nicole had turned wide eyes towards the battle waging between her watcher and Buffy. Her grip on Giles had slackened. More importantly, her attention had drifted. He reached into an inside jacket pocket with his free hand and pulled out a cross, thankful that he had put them on each side of his jacket. He pressed it against her bare stomach, branding her with its mark. She screamed and released him, jumping back from the cross. Pure hate filled her eyes, and she moved towards Giles, determined to rip his heart out and feed it to him, and to hell with whatever momentary pain his cross caused her.

But Buffy had seen Giles' predicament, and before Nicole could take a step, she found herself whipped back by the length of her braid. Buffy wrapped it twice around her neck, pulling tight.

"Anyone ever tell you it's time for a haircut?"

"Buffy!" Giles called, tossing her one very pointy stake.

She caught it in one motion, and then tugged on the end of the braid. Nicole spun out like a top, and when she came to a stop, Buffy stabbed forward with the stake. The Vampire Slayer's eyes went round before she crumbled to dust.

"No!" Marcus bellowed, recovered now from the shock of a living, souled Buffy and the pounding she had so recently delivered. He sprinted across the ten feet that separated him from his slayer, as if by reaching her, he could hold her together. His hands touched only dust as they moved through the space she had occupied not half a second before.

Buffy spun and easily delivered a second blow with her stake. Marcus didn't seem to notice. His eyes never left the dust that filtered through his hands until he also disintegrated, joining his slayer, his dust mingling with hers.

Buffy brushed herself off and looked up at Giles with a grin. "I think you were pretty generous when you gave her six minutes. I don't think that could have been more than two."

Giles swallowed. He couldn't speak. The reality of what had almost happened choked him. They had come this close to being turned, both of them. Worse than that, he had been moments from losing Buffy's soul, from damning her to oblivion or to an eternal prison. He began to shake. His knees failed him. He collapsed onto the floor. Buffy leapt to his side, wrapping her arms around him. To his utter humiliation, he began to retch, his stomach purging its contents onto the ground in front of him. Buffy simply held him, rocked him as he doubled over again and again, her fingers softly stroking his hair. When he was finished, he closed his eyes and leaned back into her embrace, his face burning with shame.

"Are you okay now?"

He nodded wearily.

"Good."

He looked up into her face, the tears glistening in his eyes. His golden angel, his beautiful slayer. She was warm and alive, and Marcus was right. Having her back was the sweetest thing in the world.

She traced her fingers along his jaw and smiled brilliantly. "I would kiss you now, but... You know with the throwing up, maybe that can wait until we get home and you brush your teeth."

He laughed then, a full-bodied laugh that shook his sides. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, still laughing, until the laughter gave way to tears, and he was sobbing in her arms. He held her tighter, as he sobbed with the grief and misery he had tried to keep contained for five long weeks.

_Bloody hell. What's wrong with you, Giles? You're falling to pieces, and you're jumping from one extreme to another without any control._

But Giles realized that where Buffy was concerned, there could be no control, only surrender.

When the flood had slowed to a trickle, he drew back from her, wiped his face on his sleeves. His eyes found the dust that had been Marcus and Nicole. Softly he whispered, "That could have been me."

She followed his line of sight, looked back to him. "What?"

"Marcus. He could have been me. His grief after he lost his slayer. It destroyed him. It had barely been five weeks for me, and God help me, I wanted him to do the ritual. I wanted you back so badly; I didn't care about the cost or the risks. Marcus had lost Nicole for six years. What would I have been after six years, Buffy? Would I have let some stray vamp take me, just to end it, to end the pain?"

"Giles, look at me." She took his face in her hands. "You could have never become Marcus. You're nothing like him. Through this whole thing, you've done nothing but think of me. When the risks were too high, you told Willow no. When you thought there was a chance, you came into my bedroom, prayed to me, wanted only to know what was best for _me_. Marcus never thought of Nicole. Not once. He didn't care what she would have wanted. He didn't care that she would have never wanted to become a vampire. He only cared about his own grief and pain.

"No, Giles, you could never become Marcus." With gentle fingers, she cleared away his tears, smoothed his brow, and fixed his hair. "What do you say we go home now? There's a lot of people who are going to be happy to see us."

He nodded. "Home sounds good."

They heard a chorus of cheers from his breast pocket, and Giles chuckled. He pulled out the cell phone and looked at it. He had completely forgotten they had an audience. "We'll be home in a little while, Willow. See you and the others then." He clicked it off, dialed three for Xander. "We're coming out. Be ready."

Watcher and Slayer stood, and arm in arm they walked towards the exit.

Next: Part 6: Bittersweet Homecoming


	6. Bittersweet Homecomings

ORIGINALLY POSTED: June 24, 2001  
TITLE: Death Brings Clarity  
AUTHOR: JK Philips  
RATING: R (some sexual tension and situations)  
SUMMARY: From "Spiral" to "The Gift" followed by my own attempt to put things right.  
Giles has a moment of clarity, but it's too late. How he deals with Buffy's death and how  
she comes back to him.  
SPOILERS: Everything up to "The Gift"  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon,  
Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.  
SECOND DISCLAIMER: I don't have any knowledge of the DCFS or the legalities of custody,  
except what I've seen on TV. If you do, good for you. This is fiction.

* * *

Part 6: Bittersweet Homecomings

Buffy pulled her watcher back from the entrance of the school. He looked at her, a puzzled expression creasing his face and a giddy grin lifting the corners of his mouth. She raised her eyebrows and stared at him expectantly.

"What is it, Buffy?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Do you wanna get shot? 'Cause I've been dead twice now, and believe me, it's not all it's cracked up to be."

Giles had the grace to look contrite as he fumbled for the crosses in his jacket. "Sorry, sorry." _Get your head together, Giles. You're starting to make stupid mistakes._

He passed one to her and gripped his tightly. He took her by the hand, leading her from the school, both of them displaying their crosses high in the air. Xander saw them and let out a whoop of joy. He jumped in the air a couple of times before he took off running towards them, flinging the crossbow off to the side as he went.

Giles frowned. "That was one of my best bows."

Xander managed to actually knock the Slayer off her feet when he reached her, both of them tumbling to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Dawn saw them at a distance, too, but she was not prepared for the sight of her sister. Dawn's eyes rolled up, and her knees buckled. She crumpled in a heap.

"Dawn!" Buffy called, untangling herself from Xander.

"Oh my God," Xander added, also pulling himself to his feet.

Giles, being the only one not laid out on the ground, made it to her side first. He gathered her into his arms, seeking out her pulse, strong, and placing his hand against her forehead, cool. He turned to Buffy as she and Xander reached him, assuring his slayer, "It's probably only a little shock from seeing you, mixed with the stress she was under today and the blood loss. She'll be fine in a little bit." He checked her arm where the gag was tied. "The cuts have stopped bleeding. Let's just get her home."

He slipped his hands under her back and knees, scooped up the young girl he had been willing to die for, and stood.

Anya rounded the corner of the school at that moment. Took in the sight of Giles holding an unconscious Dawn. Xander, with his arm around Buffy. None of them holding crosses. And Xander's crossbow in a heap 25 feet away. As if there were a struggle.

"Ahh," she screamed, as she raised her own bow. "You killed Xander! My Xander!"

"No, no, no," Xander insisted, waving his hands in front of him. "We're not vampires."

Buffy had already darted to Giles' side and pulled out the cross she knew was there in his jacket pocket. She swung it first in front of Xander's face, then in front of Giles'. She held it out for Anya to see. "Not vampires, Anya."

"Oh, good," Anya cried, as she dropped the crossbow and leapt into her lover's arms.

Giles looked down at the discarded weapon. "Does no one remember that those are expensive pieces of equipment?"

Anya kissed Xander soundly, and then released him. "I'm very happy that you're not dead. Or a vampire." She remembered Buffy standing a few feet away. She smiled even brighter and bounced over to give the slayer a hug. "I am also very happy that you're not dead anymore. Everyone was very sad while you were."

Giles cleared his throat. "While I would like nothing more than to stand out here and enjoy Buffy's miraculous resurrection..." He adjusted Dawn's weight in his arms. "Dawn is beginning to get heavy."

"Right, right," they all responded as they turned to the parking lot.

Giles cleared his throat a second time. He tilted his head to the side. "Are we forgetting something?"

They looked to where his head was pointed. "Oh, yeah," Anya exclaimed as she fetched her crossbow.

"Xander?" Giles said.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled as he dashed the 25 feet to retrieve his.

"I wish you would take more care with those," Giles scolded, as he started walking towards the parking lot. "A good crossbow's awfully expensive."

Buffy patted him on the back as she followed him to the car. "Nice to see you've got your priorities straight."

Giles shifted Dawn in his arms, glanced down on her sleeping face. "I do have my priorities straight. Those crossbows could be a liability if they lock up on you in battle just because Xander and Anya couldn't take a moment to lay them down proper. They might have bent the frames or snapped the catch."

Buffy smiled as she opened the door to his car, helped him place Dawn across the back seat, and buckled her up. Xander came running up behind them with Giles' keys. He pressed the remote entry switch for the trunk, nodding his head appreciatively as it popped open.

"Hey, Giles," Xander said. "Anyone ever tell you how much cooler your new car is than your old one?" He dumped his crossbow in the 'boot' as Giles would call it. Anya's soon followed.

Giles reached for his keys, but Buffy nabbed them first. "I don't suppose my favorite watcher would let me take it for a spin?"

Giles held out his hand patiently. "No, I don't suppose he would."

"Aw, come on," Buffy pouted. "Isn't this supposed to be Buffy's-back-from-the-dead Day? Like when the birthday girl gets whatever she wants for the day?"

He snatched the keys from her hand. "I rather think this is Buffy's-back-from-the-dead-and-I'm-going-to-at-least-get-her-home-in-one-piece Day." He climbed into the driver's seat. "Besides, one brush with death today is enough for me."

Buffy bit back her protest and dutifully sat in the passenger's seat. Xander and Anya got into their own car, and at a little after 12:30 in the morning, not even a half an hour after Buffy had returned to her living body, they were all on their way back to the house on Revello Drive. The house that was once again Buffy's.

As Giles pulled onto the main road, he noticed that his slayer's hand had crept over to find his own. He flipped his hand into hers and laced their fingers together. They stayed like that, in silence, until he pulled into the driveway and the necessity to shift into park forced him to reclaim his hand.

* * *

Dawn woke as Giles moved to lift her from the car. He knelt on the ground beside the backseat, waiting for her to open her eyes and motioning for Buffy to wait beyond her sister's line of sight. Willow had already come barreling out of the house to envelope Buffy in a bear hug, Tara following close behind. When Giles motioned them back, the three women simply waited by the passenger's side of the car, behind where Dawn was still sitting in the back.

Xander had parked his car on the side of the road, so when Dawn began to stir, he and Anya quickly slipped in behind Giles to smile down on her.

Dawn groaned softly as she blinked open her eyes and looked up at the concerned faces of Giles, Xander, and Anya. She smiled, her eyes filling with tears, as she stretched out one hand to touch Giles' face, as if to assure herself she wasn't dreaming. "Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi," he answered back, just as softly.

And then her arms came up around his neck, and she was clinging to him as if he might float away. He rocked her gently as she cried, shaking his head at Buffy when she moved to come closer.

"I thought… I had… lost you… too," Dawn managed between choking sobs.

"Shhhh," he whispered in her ear, still rocking her, still stroking her hair back along her head and neck. "Everything's all right now, luv. Everything's all right."

After a moment she quieted and drew back from him, wiping away her tears on the palms of her hands. He would have offered her his handkerchief, but he had emptied his pockets of everything but the weapons he would need against Marcus and Nicole.

"Giles, I was dreaming that Buffy was in the schoolyard with you. It seemed so real. I thought you were both ghosts, that you were dead too."

He smiled, smoothed back her hair, and tucked the long strands behind one ear. "Dawn, I have something to tell you. I didn't want to say anything before. I didn't want to get your hopes up, and then have it not work. It's rather a long story, which you will get in full tomorrow when we'll have more energy to tell it. The short of it is that it involves magic, and folding time, and summoning spirits back from the dead."

"Buffy?" she whispered.

He nodded. "Your sister is alive. She's right here. You weren't dreaming, Dawn."

Buffy had tiptoed around the front of the car and now came into her sister's field of vision. "Hey, kiddo."

Dawn beamed, the sorrow and grief melting off of her, her shoulders lifting as if a weight had been taken from them. She stood on shaky legs, and Giles stepped aside for her to cross to her sister. They embraced, Dawn and Buffy, and if their last embrace on the platform all those weeks ago had held all the sorrow in the world as they parted, this one consumed all the joy in the world as they reunited.

* * *

The Slayerettes settled their Slayer on the couch, the rest of them arranged around her, and Dawn curled up into her lap, her arm cleaned and bandaged. They had a thousand questions for Buffy, but no one was taking turns, and it soon became a tangled mess. They all laughed at the absurdity of the situation for several moments before Willow piped up with the question they had all been asking, but in different ways:

"What was it like being dead, Buffy?"

"Well the first time I died with the Master, that was only a couple minutes. This time was way different." Buffy's fingers were playing with her sister's hair, and Dawn was dozing off and on beneath the gentle touch. It was way past her bedtime. "There was the light, and a tunnel I think. I don't know. I didn't really go into the light."

Buffy looked down to see if her sister was sleeping yet. She appeared to be. Buffy continued on in almost a whisper. "I think I felt Mom there. It was nice. But I needed to know that Dawn was okay. When I turned away from the light, it was just gone. I spent the rest of the time as a ghost, just following people around and stuff."

"Wow," Xander said. The others simply nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, it was really weird," Buffy added. "I didn't feel different. I still got tired and fell asleep, which is something you wouldn't think you'd have to do after you're dead, huh? And the strangest part: I always woke up next to my grave, and I don't know why. Do you know why, Giles?"

He looked up, startled, as if his mind had been wandering off somewhere else. "Hmm? Oh, no, I… I don't know why that would happen, Buffy. There's a lot we know about demons and monsters, but not much about what happens to people after they die."

She nodded thoughtfully and glanced down at her sleeping sister. "Yeah, it didn't feel a whole lot different. Although, I didn't get hungry, which is a good thing, 'cause I couldn't have eaten anything anyway. But mostly it was like being myself, but no one could see me. Walking through things was kinda wiggy. I tried not to do that.

"And then the whole thing with Marcus and Nicole taking my body. It was pretty scary not being able to do anything. And Willow found the spell to put me back, but I couldn't tell anyone. I got into one of Giles' dreams once when I touched him. That was really…"

Giles' head came up, their eyes meeting from across the room. Buffy smiled.

"…really different," she finished, unwilling to betray the privacy of his dream. "But he didn't remember it, or didn't believe it was really me until almost at the end there.

"And then stepping back into my body after Willow did the spell. It was like slipping on an old pair of jeans that fit just right, you know?"

They were silent for a moment, and then Xander asked hesitantly, "So, Buffy, when you were our little ghostly stalker, did you… umm… did you watch us like all the time? 'Cause that thing Anya and I did with the cowboy hat and boots…"

"Aaagh!" Buffy cried, holding up her hand. "Please, Xander, like being dead wasn't bad enough without watching you and Anya have sex. How much of a pervert do you think I am?" She shuddered and shook her head as if she could clear that image out of her mind. Too late. She was already thinking of a new interpretation for "Cowboys and Indians."

"No, you guys should all be pleased to know that I gave you some privacy. I had no desire to follow anyone into the shower or anything." Well, all right, maybe there was that one person, but she had resisted really, really well.

Xander's face was burning with embarrassment, and he was very, very eager to change the topic. He jumped to his feet. "You hungry, Buff?" he asked. Willow had already made her hot chocolate.

"Yeah, I guess I haven't eaten in over a month. Now I think about it, I don't think this body ate at all the day we fought Glory."

"What can I get? Omelets? Grilled cheese? Cereal? Anything beyond that, and you'll have to order in, 'cause that's about the limit of my culinary skills."

Buffy smiled and looked down at her sister, sleeping peacefully in her lap. "Actually, all month I've been watching Giles make Dawn these really thin pancake things-"

"Crepes," Giles supplied.

"Yeah, those. They looked really good. Think you can make some for me?"

"They're really good with strawberries and sugar," Dawn murmured, blinking open her eyes. "Can I have some, too, Giles?"

Buffy resumed petting her sister's hair. "I thought you were asleep."

"Almost."

"Would anyone else like some?" Giles asked. "As long as I'm making them."

The others nodded their heads, and as he crossed to the kitchen, Buffy called out, "I want mine like yours, with the butter and the powdered sugar, and then all rolled up. That looked good."

Dawn made a face. "He puts lemon on it too."

"Oh yeah," Buffy called, a little louder. "Put the lemon juice on mine, too."

"Gross," Dawn said, and then Buffy began tickling her along her side until Dawn batted her hand away, crying, "Stop it!"

"Look who's talking, Miss Peanut Butter and Salami Sandwich."

"They're good, if you'd just try one," Dawn protested.

Buffy pushed her sister off her lap and stood, stretching. "Okay, while Giles is cooking me a midnight… well an after one in the morning snack, I think I'll go upstairs and change into something less…" She looked down at the white lace dress she was wearing. It actually had ribbons on the sleeves and neck. As a ghost, she had pretty much been wearing the white sweater and pants she had died in, but this was… this was… She searched for the right word. "…something less Victorian."

She made a face and called out loudly to the kitchen: "God, Giles, is this what you picked out to bury me in? It's _sooo_ not me."

"I tried to tell him that was the dress Mom made you wear to Aunt Ellen's 60th birthday party," Dawn explained. "But he thought it looked nice."

"I think this is just his revenge for all the jokes I made about his tweed." Buffy smiled at all her friends, and scampered off up the steps. She came back down a short time later wearing sweatpants and a tank top. And still a little loose, even on her second finger, she wore Giles' onyx pinky ring.

He noticed. As he served crepes to the group seated around the dining table, he noticed the familiar glint as she reached across the table for more sugar. Their eyes met, and she blushed, possibly embarrassed. He merely smiled, nodded his head, and slid the sugar closer to her side of the table.

The gang didn't last long past 3:30, but no one wanted to go home. They all wanted to be near Buffy. Dawn hadn't made it more than ten minutes after they finished their meal and retired to the living room. She snored softly in Buffy's lap, and when the slayer was sure her sister was down for the count, she carried Dawn upstairs and laid her in Buffy's own bed.

When the rest of the gang had slowed down in their story swapping, when silence and drowsy giddy grins had replaced the sound of laughter and boisterous teasing, Buffy sent them all to bed too. She gave Willow and Tara Dawn's bed. Xander and Anya got the couch. And Buffy would sleep with her sister. For just as much as they all wanted to be near Buffy, Buffy wanted them to stay just as badly.

* * *

He couldn't reach her. Nicole had him by the throat, and she was just too strong. He could only watch as time stood still, as Marcus bent over Buffy's form, as he drained her. And then, even worse, as he placed his bleeding wrist over her mouth and forced her to drink.

"Shhh, Giles, it's all right. I'm right here." Buffy's voice, but not from the still form beneath Marcus. This voice came from everywhere.

"Wake up. You're dreaming."

And then he did. His heart was pounding, its rhythm ringing in his ears. He was panting, shaking. He felt fingers gently combing through his hair and turned. Buffy was sitting on the edge of his bed, smiling.

"You were having a nightmare. I heard you down the hall."

He closed his eyes and asked, "I didn't wake Dawn, did I? Or the others?"

"No. That kid can sleep through just about anything. You should know. You're the one who's had to get her out of bed the last five weeks. And I think Willow and Tara are pretty wiped from the spell they did. Xander and Anya are all the way downstairs. So yeah, just little ol' me."

He smiled and looked up at her. He took her hand in his, held them both over his heart. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"S'okay." She shrugged. "All month I've been watching you have really bad dreams, and I couldn't do anything. It's nice to be able to wake you up before they get _really_ bad."

They stayed like that for a minute, Giles letting himself calm after his dream and Buffy just watching him thoughtfully.

Finally, he released her hand and looked over to her. "It's late. You should go back to sleep."

"Giles?"

"Yes?"

"Can I sleep in here with you?"

Her question startled him, and he hiked himself further up his pillows for a better look at her. "What?"

"I mean just sleep. It's no big. I mean, I'm dressed and you're dressed..." She stopped. "You are wearing pajama bottoms under there, aren't you?"

Giles blushed and pulled the blankets closer to his chest. "Yes." He was somewhat thankful at the moment to also be wearing the matching pajama top.

"See, no big," she said, as she slid under the covers next to him. "We'll just be two fully dressed friends who happen to be sleeping in the same bed." She snuggled up next to him, her breasts pressing against his side through the soft silk of her pajamas and his. She wasn't wearing a bra. Giles could feel himself beginning to get hard, and he shifted away from her.

"Buffy, I don't think this is a good idea."

She raised herself up on one elbow, looking down at him with what, even in the dim lighting, Giles could recognize as a pout. "Please. It's just that... I've woken up every day next to my grave. I've spent the last five weeks not being able to touch anyone. I guess I'm just afraid to close my eyes and wake up and find out that this is all a dream and that I'm still dead." One tear spilled down her cheek, and he caught it before it could fall. "Please, Giles, I just want someone to hold me through the night. And I think... I think you need to wake up with me in your arms, too."

He nodded mutely. How could he deny her anything now, especially when she put it like that? And a small, selfish part him wanted to feel her close to him, to wrap his arms around her, and to know without a doubt that this wasn't a dream, that she was real.

She settled in next to him, pillowed her head on his chest, and wrapped her arm around his waist. He slid one hand up to lie over her arm. The other found her hair and stroked it gently back from her face again and again, allowing the silk strands to flow between his fingers.

"Giles, you're shaking."

"Shhh... Go to sleep, Buffy."

She was silent for a moment, and he thought perhaps she had. But then she asked very softly, "Giles, did you have dreams that bad before I died?"

The hand trailing through her hair stilled. He rested it across her back. "Occasionally."

"But not every night?"

"No, not every night."

She pulled herself tighter against him and sighed.

"Buffy?"

"Hmmm?"

He paused for a moment. "You watched over me while I slept... Did you watch me _every_ night?"

"Yeah. Every night. You were in pretty bad shape. Sometimes it scared me. When you thought you were alone, when there wasn't anyone around to be strong for, sometimes it scared me how bad off you were."

Giles kissed her on the forehead and wrapped his arms around her tightly. He frowned as another thought hit him. "Did you come into any of my other dreams?"

She tipped her head up to look at him, her chin still resting on his chest. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me about them, and I'll tell you if they sound familiar."

He blanched. She giggled. "Now Giles, have you been having naughty dreams about me?"

He blushed and rolled his eyes. "I'm beginning to think this sleeping in the same bed was a rather bad idea."

"No, you're not." She laid her head back on his chest, nestled in closer. "You're loving it. You can't fool me." As if to prove her point, she slid her knee up to brush against the hardness that was growing between his legs.

"B-buffy," he stammered, as one hand pushed her leg back down. "Go to sleep."

She kissed him softly on the chin. "You first."

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her, tried to relax into the feeling of having her here, warm and alive and in his arms. He closed his eyes and knew that tonight there would be no more dreams. Tonight he would sleep through the night.

* * *

Sometimes when the big things click into place, you just forget about all the little things. That is until the little things become the big things. That's pretty much what happened the next day as they all puttered around the house, sleeping late, skipping school, skipping work, shop closed, everyone just enjoying having Buffy back in their lives again. And then in the late afternoon Xander and Anya, Willow and Tara, they all went home, but only long enough to change for the celebratory dinner Giles had promised them. Yes, after getting Buffy back, none of the little things really seemed to matter anymore. At least not until the DCFS showed up at the door for Dawn.

Dawn had just come down the stairs after taking an overly long shower. Buffy had stood outside the door, pounding, insisting that she would also like to take a shower, sometime _today_. When they passed in the hall, Dawn had teased her older sister, commenting on Buffy's noticeable absence from her bed that morning and the fact that Giles' bed was probably a lot more comfortable.

"Maybe you should shower with Giles. You could save water," Dawn had pointed out sarcastically.

Buffy had taken her sister by the shoulders and firmly moved her aside from the bathroom door. "Hey you, it's absolutely _none_ of your business whose bed I slept in last night." And then she had leaned in closer and asked nicely, "But please don't mention it to anyone else, ok?"

Dawn had merely shrugged her shoulders, muttered, "Whatever," and bounced down the stairs as Buffy started her shower.

When the doorbell rang, she was standing right there in the foyer, so she called out to Giles, "I got it," and opened the door. She expected it to be one of the gang: cleaned up, changed, and ready to go out for some much deserved merriment. Giles had made five o'clock reservations for them at a Japanese restaurant where they cooked your dinner right at the table while you watched.

When she opened the door, it wasn't Xander or Anya or Willow or Tara or even by some miracle a smoldering Spike. Standing on the front porch were two women in business suits, carrying clipboards, and a uniformed police officer.

"Dawn Summers?" The blond woman asked.

Dawn nodded blankly.

"Is Mr..." She adjusted her glasses on her nose and peered down at the clipboard she held in her hands. "Is Mr. Giles at home?" She pronounced his name with a hard "G" like "Guy-uls."

She looked at the two women in front of her and the cop beside them. Then she noticed her father and Susan standing on the sidewalk near the road.

Dawn backed up towards the dining room until her shoulder hit the archway. The terror that had stalked her the last couple days again closed in around her after the brief respite Buffy's resurrection had given her.

"Giles," she whispered softly. And then again, a little louder, "Giles!"

"What is it, Dawn?" He rounded the corner from the living room and stopped short when he saw them too. The three strangers entered the house, standing in the foyer between Giles and Dawn.

"Mr. Giles." The blond woman got his name right this time. "I'm Anna Iverson from the Department of Child and Family Services." She extended her hand, but he didn't take it. She pulled it back and wiped her palm against her skirt, as if her attempt at a handshake had been nothing more than a nervous tick.

"Mr. Giles," The second woman continued, an overweight middle-aged woman with dark black hair pulled tight into a bun. "I'm Stephie Miller and this is Officer Griffin. Is there somewhere we can go to discuss Dawn's situation?"

"Well, now that those pleasantries are over," Giles said coldly, "I'd like to ask you all to leave my home. I am Dawn's legal guardian, and unless you've brought a summons-"

The police officer drew an envelope from his shirt pocket and handed it to Giles. He opened it briskly and glanced over the legal phrasing. They were taking Dawn away.

When Giles looked up again, Hank and Susan had moved to stand in the doorway, watching the drama in the entry unfold. Giles glared daggers at Dawn's father. "What is this about?"

Hank met the other man's gaze evenly. "When I picked up Dawn from school the other day, I gave them the number at the hotel where I could be reached. They called me today to tell me Dawn hadn't shown up, no one had called in for her, and the line was busy at the house."

Giles crumpled up the paper bitterly and threw it on the floor. "And what? You thought I had taken her out of the country? You thought you should bring in the law before you even tried to come here and find out what was going on for yourself?"

"After your little display last night, I wasn't sure what to think, Mr. Giles." Hank pulled his fiancé closer, as if to draw strength from her. "But I was pretty sure I didn't want to leave my daughter here in your care."

Giles spared Dawn a glance. The poor girl looked terrified. He tried to give her a reassuring smile. "Why don't you wait up in your room for a minute, Dawn?"

She turned to go up the stairs, but Hank stepped forward and pulled her back by the arm. Dawn yelped in pain and flinched back from his touch. Her father released her immediately, his eyes drawn to the three thin lines of blood that were now beginning to show through the bandage on her upper arm. "Honey," he said softly, "What happened to your arm?"

Dawn's eyes slipped to Giles, silently pleading with him to give her an answer that wouldn't include vampires and blood rituals. But Hank took that as her answer and turned on Giles with a cold fury. Only the officer between them prevented Hank from attacking the other man out of the same protective anger Giles himself had felt last night.

"You bastard! You didn't want her to go on her stupid field trip, but she went anyway. So you what? You sliced her up? She didn't even want to go, but I made her."

"Dad, no!" Dawn was crying, her face dropped in her hands. "He didn't do it. It was an accident."

The police officer shoved Hank away from Giles and raised a warning hand. Dawn's father backed off reluctantly, running both his hands through his sandy hair, his face burning with rage. There was nothing Giles could say in his own defense. _Really, I didn't touch your daughter, Mr. Summers. It was a vampire who needed her blood so he could bring your other daughter back from the dead._ There was no way to explain away three such perfectly made cuts as an accident. They were deep enough to have needed the butterfly closures Giles kept in his first aid kit.

"Come on, Dawn, you're leaving with me." Hank took his daughter by the hand and made to go, but the cop and the two social workers intercepted him.

"Mr. Summers," the thinner blond, Anna, was saying, "I'm sorry, but Bureau policy in these cases demands that Dawn be placed in foster care until this situation can be resolved."

"No," Dawn begged, clinging to her father's hand. "Dad, please. Don't let them. Daddy, please."

Hank looked stricken. Giles couldn't resist the chance to dig the knife in deeper. "You think this is what's best for your daughter?"

Hank glared at Giles and spat back, "It's a damn sight better than leaving her with you."

Anna stepped towards the girl, placed her hand on her back, tried to lead her towards the door. "Come on, dear. It's only for a little while."

"No!" Dawn screamed. "Don't touch me!"

Giles heard the water upstairs turn off. Buffy must have heard her sister's cry, and would join them post haste. That could only improve the situation, to have Dawn's dead sister come down to talk with the DCFS agents.

Dawn turned and bolted into Giles' arms. He held her tightly, staring down Hank Summers, as if daring the man to challenge Giles' right to comfort the girl.

"Please, Giles," she was begging through wrenching sobs, "Do a spell. Make them go away. Don't let them take me."

He could do nothing, except hold the girl as she cried. He focused on one of the social workers, Anna. He smiled at her sadly. She was, after all, only doing her job. "Ms. Iverson, would it be ok if Dawn packed some of her things to take with her?"

"Of course."

Dawn was shaking her head, her hands clutching his shirtfront in a death grip. He patted her back kindly and murmured for her ears only, "Compared to last night, this is nothing, Dawn. Just a little while, and then you'll be back home. I promise." He pried her fingers loose from his shirt, and steered her towards the stairs.

It was at that moment that Buffy came barreling down the steps: her hair dripping wet, clothes still sticking to her damp frame, and a toilet plunger raised over her head as a weapon.

"Buffy?" her father whispered, disbelieving.

"Buffy?" the middle-aged social worker, Stephie, echoed as she searched through the papers on her clipboard. "Dawn's sister Buffy? Our records list her as deceased."

Buffy lowered the plunger, let it drop on the steps next to her, and looked over the group of people in the foyer. "What's going on here?"

She grunted as her father claimed her in a desperate embrace. Her sister soon joined him. "Oxygen!" she pleaded. They both released her, her father leaving his hand on her shoulder, as if to anchor her in this world. "Ok, what is going on here?"

Giles stepped forward to fall into his usual role of lecturer. "These people are with the Department for Child and Family Services. Your father went to a judge and obtained an order for them to take Dawn from my custody."

Buffy stared at her father incredulously. "Is this true?"

Hank straightened himself defensively, for the moment forgetting about his confusion at seeing Buffy alive. "I was just trying to take care of Dawn. I thought that's what you would have wanted."

"What I wanted was for _Giles_ to take care of her."

"Excuse me," Anna broke in. "I know that this is difficult for all of you, but Dawn really needs to come with us now."

Dawn started crying again.

"Buffy," Giles said gently, "Why don't you take your sister up to her room and help her get some things together."

Buffy led her sister up the stairs, Dawn following meekly and looking just like a prisoner marching up the steps to the guillotine.

Anna considered the two men in front of her and then the clipboard in her hands. "You'll each have a meeting in the morning before the judge. I'm sure he'll want to know why Buffy's alive, or rather why we thought she was dead in the first place." She shifted her glasses up higher on her nose and shuffled through some papers. "This is most unusual. We don't regularly make this kind of mistake. In fact, I could have sworn there was a coroner's report in Dawn's file." The social worker lapsed into silence as she read over the papers on her clipboard another time.

Hank and Giles waited in cold silence, staring across at each other in mutual contempt. Giles knew the man was waiting for an explanation for Buffy being alive. But Giles was damned if he was going to say anything; he was going to make Hank actually ask him for the answer. And Hank, he just stood waiting. There was no way in hell he was going to ask Giles for anything.

A few minutes later, Dawn came down the stairs with her backpack clutched in one hand and Mr. Gordo in the other. She looked back at Buffy, and Giles, and then her father. She walked past Susan. And then she got in the police car and was gone.

The four of them were left standing in an empty house, each of them wondering what they could have, no _should_ have, done differently.

Buffy broke the silence. "Dad, what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking you were _dead_!" Hank shook his head, as if he could clear out the confusion and it would somehow make sense. "Can someone explain to me how I got that one wrong? I mean, I saw your obituary, Buffy. I hadn't actually made it to your grave yet, but the groundskeeper knew right where it was. And _you_," he pivoted to face Giles, "if you knew my daughter was alive, why didn't you say anything? All this time, you've let me believe she was dead, you heartless son-of-a-"

"Dad!" Buffy shouted, bringing his attention back to her. "Listen, it's a long story. One I do _not_ have the patience to tell right now. And just so you know, Giles thought I was dead too, so just get off his back already." She took a deep breath and collected herself. "I want you to get out of my house now."

"But Buffy-"

"Dad, just go. I love you, but I just can't look at you right now." She pointed at the door, still open from Dawn's exit only minutes before. "And take your secretary with you."

Hank bristled. "She's my fiancé."

"Whatever." Buffy threw up her hands. "Just go."

Hank reluctantly obeyed, heading out the door as Susan said lamely, "It was nice meeting you, Buffy," before she followed. Giles shut the door behind them.

Buffy plopped down on the last step, leaning her head against the banister. "What do we do?"

Giles joined her on the bottom step, feeling every bit as miserable as Buffy looked. "We get a lawyer."

Buffy looked over at him, leaned her weight the other way, and rested her head against his shoulder. Her wet hair made a damp spot on his shirt. He suspected that some of the wetness there might also be her tears, but he didn't bend his head to look.

Minutes later Willow bounced in the front door, followed by Tara, both dressed up for dinner. The redhead frowned at her friends' dejected appearance and glanced around the house. "Where's Dawn?"

Buffy pulled herself into Giles' arms and started sobbing.

* * *

A call to London and an explanation of the last few days' events. Within the hour the Watcher's Council did what they did best: a few pulls of a few bureaucratic strings and they had Buffy's alibi. Complete with phony medical records from an LA hospital where Buffy had spent the last five weeks in a coma under the name Jane Doe. Head trauma after being hit by a car, no identification anywhere on her person. It was Giles' idea to embellish the story with why she went to LA, and Buffy wasn't thinking clearly enough to argue with him. It was perhaps cruel to say Buffy had gone to LA to try and track down her father through his old offices. It was sure to cause Hank some measure of guilt to know she had lain in a coma, because he couldn't bother to come home after her mother's death. Giles couldn't seem to care.

The Council quickly altered Buffy's own records as well. She had fallen from a great height, and now the coroner's report said that the victim's identity could not be conclusively proven, because of facial and head trauma from the fall. It went on to state that the victim's friends had identified her by her clothing and jewelry, and she had been buried as Buffy Anne Summers. The service had been closed casket, so no one would know the difference. Especially not after the coroner found himself reassigned to a posh Beverly Hills hospital at twice his salary. The Watcher's Council was good.

So Buffy and Giles went to Mr. Stockwell's office and explained to him what had _really_ happened to Buffy. Dawn had been having problems in school, and Buffy had been concerned that she would lose custody of her sister. All true. So she had gone to her father's old LA offices to try and get the contact numbers for his business trip in Italy. (That would have been about the time they road tripped into the desert to escape Glory). Her first day there, wouldn't you know it? Mugged. Someone stole her suitcase, jewelry, wallet with ID, and money. She had nothing but the clothes on her back. On the way to the police station, and upset to distraction, she must have stepped in front of a car. That part was still a little fuzzy. And then the next thing she knew, she was waking up in an LA hospital five weeks later. And the entire time, no one in the hospital had known who she was. Of course, she had come back to Sunnydale as quickly as possible, only arriving the previous evening. She felt just terrible about everything she'd put everyone through. And she had planned to tell her father everything, but he had come to the house himself before she'd had a chance.

As for Giles, he was suitably relieved that this was all one big mistake. Whoever had found that poor girl's body, the one who had stolen Buffy's clothes, jewelry, and ID, whoever had found her after the fall had naturally called him. His number had been in her wallet. So they had all gone to the hospital, identified her clothes and jewelry, and believed the doctor when he said Buffy had died. They had all simply assumed that Buffy had returned from LA, and for whatever inexplicable reason fallen from the top of the construction site. Of course, now that they knew it wasn't _Buffy_ who had fallen, it all made more sense. That other girl probably did have a reason for going up there.

And when that other girl's friends missed her, they came looking. Perhaps they also had whatever else of Buffy's belongings the girl had stolen. If so, then they would have known Buffy's name. They would have probably figured out that their friend had been mistaken for Buffy. And they must be the ones responsible for taking the body from Buffy's grave. When they saw that it was indeed their friend, they must have taken her body home for burial in her own grave. Who could know for sure? The body had disappeared, and now they would never know who had been buried in Buffy's place.

Buffy and Giles were both very good liars. And they had the proper falsified documentation to back up their lies.

Mr. Stockwell put together a case so Buffy could keep custody of Dawn. The judge would be much more likely to rule in favor of a blood relation. But under the terms of the agreement, Giles would continue to live in the house and help Buffy out. Buffy was young, and that was likely to be a strike against her, but with Giles there as well, her age would not be such a problem.

Dawn's wounds were explained as self-inflicted. Giles had protested initially, when he and Buffy had discussed it.

"Buffy," he had said, "You go in there and tell the judge that Dawn cut herself, and you're likely to cause more problems for her."

Buffy had stirred her tea, around and around and around with her spoon. Giles had made it for her to help settle her nerves, but it seemed to make her more agitated as she fiddled with the spoon. Maybe if she actually drank it, that would help.

"Giles, it makes the most sense. I mean, Dawn cut herself up pretty good after she found out she was the Key. She needed stitches, and the school counselor wanted us to take her to talk to someone."

Giles' had removed Buffy's hand from the spoon, held it tightly in his own to try and offer her some amount of reassurance. "That's exactly my point. You tell them Dawn cut herself, and it would be the second time she's done something like that. They'll more than likely send her for a psych evaluation. With the amount of distress she's experiencing at the moment, they might even hold her under a suicide watch. She's been through enough lately without us adding to it by allowing the authorities to believe she's a danger to herself."

Buffy had simply leaned over, laid her head against his shoulder, and sighed. "We can't let them think you did it. They'd never let you anywhere near Dawn. They might even press charges. And I don't think I stand a chance of getting custody from my dad without you."

Giles had given her hand a little squeeze and rested his cheek against the top of her head. "Maybe if we talk with your father, try to reason with him…"

Buffy had laughed bitterly. "Don't forget: I may have been dead, but I was watching. I've seen how he's been since he got into town. And I know my dad. He was like that at the end with Mom, too. He won't listen to me. And he most definitely won't listen to you. He really hates you, you know?"

Giles had chuckled. "I know. I'm somewhat ashamed to admit the feeling's become almost mutual." He had taken to stirring his own tea nervously, just as he had been annoyed at Buffy for doing moments before. "Buffy, I'm really trying. I know he's your father, and you love him, but-"

"But sometimes he can be a really jackass. Yeah, I know. Which leaves us back at the beginning. We can't let them think you hurt Dawn. We certainly can't tell them the truth. So unless you can think of how she got sliced three times on accident…?" There had been no response from Giles. "Yeah, I didn't think so. That means we just have to tell them that Dawn cut herself. She trusts us. She knows she can't tell anyone the truth. She'll go along with whatever we say."

So sitting in Mr. Stockwell's office, Buffy and Giles lied again. They told their lawyer that Dawn had cut herself, having become so distraught over the thought of having to live with her father in Spain. The reason had again been Giles' idea. He couldn't resist the chance to shove a little more guilt in Hank's direction.

The lawyer thought they had a pretty good case. And there seemed to be no love lost between Thomas Stockwell and Hank Summers, although the lawyer held back for Buffy's sake. He seemed pretty determined that Hank not get custody of Dawn, though. When Stockwell had stepped to the file cabinets against the wall, Giles even thought he heard the man mumble something about "the son-of-a-bitch didn't want them the first time around," but the words were spoken softly and the watcher could have been simply projecting his own feelings onto them.

Mr. Stockwell didn't even think Dawn's cutting herself would present too much of a problem, putting to rest many of Giles' concerns. The cuts weren't that serious, and located on the upper arm as they were, Stockwell didn't think she would be deemed suicidal, just upset. If anything, her actions might sway a judge to come to a final decision sooner.

And of course, there was Hank's lawyer, Harold Cates. The man was an excellent lawyer, but not cheap. He had a reputation for representing the less deserving, but far wealthier clients. It couldn't help but color the judge's perceptions just a tad.

The only thing that might work against them, the lawyer said, was the fact that judges liked to place children with a parent if they could, especially one who was about to remarry. Judges liked giving children to stable, two-parent homes.

And so Buffy and Giles went back to the house, spent the evening with the Scoobies, and tried not to think about the morning's meeting with the judge. ("What judge works on Saturday?" Buffy had asked. "You should be thankful," Giles had answered. "Otherwise we'd be waiting until Monday.") For the rest of the evening, Stockwell's words continued to echo in Buffy's head: _Judges like to give children to stable, two-parent homes._

Their friends all tried to cheer them both up. When they first walked through the door after meeting with their lawyer, Anya had presented them with a cake.

"I baked it myself. From a box. Not from an actual box. The ingredients were inside the box." Anya stopped rambling abruptly and held out the cake proudly. "Here. The ritual exchange of baked goods is a time-honored tradition between people when they're upset. I believe the usual offering is chocolate chip cookies, but they didn't have a box for that."

Giles smiled slightly. "Thank you, Anya, that was very thoughtful of you."

Anya beamed at her success and took the cake to the kitchen to cut it.

Tara grimaced and whispered to them, "I don't think Anya's ever baked a cake before. She insisted that the directions didn't say to 'de-shell' the eggs before adding them."

Giles and Buffy both shuddered. "Thanks for the warning," the slayer said.

They walked into the living room, where Willow was busy at the coffee table with her laptop. "Hey guys," she waved, looking rather pleased with herself. "Guess who hacked into the DCFS computers and got the number where Dawn's staying?" She waved a little piece of paper in front of them. "You can call her if you want."

Buffy's mood actually lifted. "Thanks. I think I will." She took the number and went to use the upstairs' phone.

Xander bobbed his head expectantly. "So…? What's the sitch? You guys gonna be able to take Dawn home tomorrow?"

Giles sat on the couch next to Xander. "Mr. Stockwell seems to think we stand a good chance."

Xander leaned back and stretched. "Don't you worry. I've got a secret weapon ready. There's no way they'll give her to her dad."

"Xander?" Giles asked suspiciously.

"Hey just be patient, G-man, you'll find out tomorrow."

Giles sighed. "I've told you not to call me that. And whatever it is, it had better not be illegal, or get us in trouble with the judge. We really don't need you to screw this up for us, Xander. No offense."

Xander patted the older man on the shoulder. "None taken. Trust me, Big-G, everything's gonna be fine. It's just a little devious and underhanded, but nothing illegal. Or at least, I don't think it's illegal."

"Xander!" Giles admonished. "I'm not liking the sound of your plan already."

Anya saved her fiancé from further scolding when she arrived with slices of cake. She handed a plate to Giles and waited expectantly. He inspected his dessert with some trepidation. He could see small flecks of white in the chocolate cake where the eggshells had mixed in the batter. The white frosting looked edible, probably from a can.

"Anya, what are these red things on the frosting?" Giles asked, trying not to sound too worried.

"The picture of the cake on the box had pretty red sprinkles on it. I didn't find any in your cupboards, but I thought the crushed red pepper you had in your spice rack looked almost the same." Anya seemed pleased at her resourcefulness.

Giles simply nodded and smiled, picking around his cake with the fork. "It looks delicious." The earlier trip to the lawyer had already established that Giles was a very good liar.

"Where's Buffy?" Anya looked around, still holding the second slice of cake.

"She went upstairs to call Dawn," Willow answered.

"Oh." Anya frowned. "She'll miss the cake."

"I'm sure she'll be very disappointed." Giles almost managed to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Almost.

"But it's supposed to cheer her up," Anya protested.

"Hey, An," Xander said. "Why don't you give me that slice, and go get Willow and Tara some."

"Ok."

As soon as she'd left the room, Willow rescued the two men and dumped their cake in the trash. Anya returned to find their plates empty. "Would you like some more?"

"Yes," Xander said.

"No," Giles said at the same moment.

She left to fetch more, and Willow and Tara's pieces found their way into the trash as well. They were able to keep Anya occupied fetching cake as fast as they dumped it in the trash until there was just the one slice left.

"Wow," Anya had commented. "You guys must really have liked my cake. Perhaps I should consider becoming a chef." She frowned down at the last piece. "I know you all asked for more, but this is the last slice. I feel like we should save it for Buffy."

"Yes." Giles grinned wickedly. "Definitely save the last slice for Buffy."

* * *

Giles was just beginning to drift asleep, when he felt the bed lower next to him, and quickly blinked awake.

"Buffy?" he asked groggily.

"You have a lot of women climbing into your bed in the middle of the night?"

"No, of course not. I just… What are you doing here?" He watched her as she slid under the covers and joined him in bed. He took her in his arms as he had the night before, still somewhat baffled by her presence. "Buffy? You do have your own bed."

"I know, but the house is so quiet and empty. The gang all went back to their own places and Dawn…" She trailed off. "I just wanted to sleep in here with you tonight."

He paused, struggling with the best way to broach the subject. "I thought we both agreed that last night was a one-time affair." He grimaced, and she giggled. "Poor choice of words. I meant that last night was an exceptional situation. We were both vulnerable and needing to feel secure in the other's presence. But we agreed that sleeping in the same bed would be a one-time event."

Buffy snuggled up close to him, head nestled up under his chin, arm wrapped around his waist, one leg draped across his. "I don't remember agreeing to any such thing."

"Buffy, this is rapidly becoming inappropriate."

"Giles," she began thoughtfully. "I was in your dream, remember? You kissed me like I was the antidote to whatever you were dying from."

He tensed beneath her. "Dreams can't always be taken literally. Sometimes they're symbolic. I was grieving. I was missing you terribly. I don't think you have any idea what it was like for me."

She looked up at him. "Then tell me."

He closed his eyes in pain. "Buffy, please…"

"Dawn said it was like having her heart ripped out. Marcus said it was like she took his soul with her. What was it like for you, Giles?" He didn't answer. His eyes were still clenched shut. "Giles? You're shaking again. Talk to me."

"Buffy," his voice was hoarse, trembling. "I hadn't seen you alive in nearly five weeks, not even in my dreams. I dreamt of you every single night, but you were always dead. I used to wish…" He choked on the words, and Buffy began to stroke his forehead softly. "Every night I would close my eyes and hope that _this_ would be the night I would see you alive. Hear your voice. But you were always dead. Sometimes the dreams were so bad, I was afraid to let myself go to sleep."

He swallowed and continued. One tear slipped from beneath his closed lashes. "Once I spent the whole afternoon digging through your family's video collection, looking for home movies, for anything that would have you in it."

"Yeah," Buffy said, "We never got a camcorder. No home movies for Giles." She kissed him tenderly on the chin and waited for him to finish.

"Yes, all I found were old musicals and black and white romances." He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, not meeting her sympathetic gaze. "I thought if I could find a home movie, if I could see you smiling and laughing one last time, then maybe you might be alive in my dreams." His hands began stroking lightly up and down her back. His fingers trembled as they touched her. "When you came into my dream that night… God, Buffy, I had been terrified that I was forgetting you, the sound of your voice, the way you smile and move and shrug your shoulders and roll your eyes and have that little bounce in your step and the way you look at me. Most especially the way you look at me. I had to go through three family albums before I could find a picture that showed your eyes clearly. God help me, Buffy, I couldn't remember the exact shade of blue in your eyes."

His eyes had closed again, his forehead creased with pain. His hands stopped their nervous travel up and down her back. Instead they clenched into the fabric of her pajamas and pressed her tighter against him. His whole body shook beneath her like an egg teetering on the edge of a counter and very nearly ready to fall off. His breathing sounded labored. His voice, when it came again, sounded raspy. "When I kissed you, Buffy… I knew I was dreaming, but I didn't think I would ever see you alive again, even in my dreams. I thought all the nights that came after would be like all the ones that came before. I thought it was my only chance… I thought I would keep having the other dreams for the rest of my life."

She was still stroking his forehead softly. She trailed her fingers along the curve of his cheek and dried the few tears that had escaped from behind his closed lashes. She kissed him again on the chin, and then becoming bolder, continued up the side of his face and cheek until she was nose to nose with him, looking down into the face of her beloved watcher. He opened his eyes, loosing himself in her blue depths. How could he have forgotten that most beautiful shade of blue?

"Giles," she whispered. "I think you're in love with me." She placed a finger over his mouth to still his protest. "I know a little bit about men." She reconsidered. "Ok, I didn't know that Angel was going to dump me or that Parker was such a punk or that Riley was addicted to vampire bites and was going to fly off to South America." She frowned. "Ok, at first glance it doesn't seem like I know much about men. But really, I think I know when someone's in love with me."

She smiled down at him. "And you, Rupert Giles, don't just love me, but you are _in_ love with me. I watched you for the five weeks I was dead. In the beginning, I stayed to watch Dawn, but after a while it was mostly just you. And I saw how good you were with her. That's when I first began to realize what _I_ was feeling for you. The more I watched you, the more I realized that it had been there all the time. I saw you in a whole new light. And I knew. I just _knew_. I don't just love you. I'm _in_ love with you."

She closed the distance between their lips and kissed him tenderly. It was so much better than what they had shared in his dream. His lips were warm and soft beneath hers. And this time there was no desperation, no fear that he would wake at any second. This time they had all the time in the world.

She pulled back and looked down at him. "Tell me I'm wrong about this. Tell me again that when you kissed me in your dream, it was a symbolic grieving thing. If you can look me in the eyes and tell me you're not in love with me, then I'll go back to my own bed, and we can pretend this whole conversation never happened. I'll just file it away under 'times Buffy made a complete fool of herself over a guy.'"

She waited patiently, and he brushed her blond hair back and behind her ear. "Buffy…"

"Yes?"

"We have to see the judge in the morning. Go to sleep." He pulled her head back down on his chest.

"Does that mean I'm sleeping here tonight?"

"Yes," he murmured. She giggled, and he sighed. "What is it, Buffy?"

"I was just thinking about what Mr. Stockwell said. 'Judges like to give children to stable, two-parent homes.' You think if we mentioned all of this in the meeting tomorrow, it might help?"

He wrapped his arms around her. "I think if you mention any of it tomorrow, your father's very likely to come after me with a shotgun."

They both laughed for a moment before he again told her to go to sleep.

"Goodnight, Giles."

"Goodnight, my love."

Giles closed his eyes. He could easily get used to falling asleep with Buffy in his arms.

* * *

The judge spoke to each of them separately. First Hank and Susan, then Buffy and Giles. He was quite enthralled with their tale of Buffy's coma and mistaken death. He looked over the paperwork their lawyer had sent, and if he had been at all suspicious, well everything seemed to support their claim.

Both couples waited in the hall with their lawyers, sitting across from each other on opposing benches. Hank kept watching Buffy, obviously wanting to speak with her, but unwilling to do so in front of Giles. Hank's lawyer had all the same papers the judge did, so her father knew the story of Buffy's miraculous 'resurrection' by now, complete with all the guilty details Giles had added. Giles still didn't think the man looked suitably guilt-ridden.

After about an hour, the judge called them all back in for one meeting together. Hank and Susan sat in a pair of chairs on the left side, Buffy and Giles in a pair on the right. Their lawyers stood in the middle, in front of the judge's desk.

Hank's lawyer spoke first. "Your Honor, we would like to introduce a witness."

The judge frowned. He seemed like a kindly older man, maybe in his mid to late 60's. Small, wrinkled, completely bald, he looked like he had shrunk into his black robes until they were too big for him. The judge looked down his nose at Hank's lawyer in his expensive Armani suit. "Mr. Cates, this isn't a trial."

Harold Cates nodded respectfully. "I know, Your Honor, but this witness speaks to the very character of Mr. Rupert Giles. If you are going to consider him as a kind of co-guardian for Dawn Summers, then I would ask that you hear the testimony of my witness. Otherwise, I would demand that Mr. Giles' name be stricken from the motion for permanent guardianship and Miss Buffy Summers be considered as the sole applicant."

Buffy turned terrified eyes towards Giles. He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together. He gave it a little squeeze, and she relaxed back into her chair.

Mr. Stockwell looked at Giles quizzically. Giles only shook his head and shrugged. He could only think of one person they might be able to bring in here to badmouth him. Ethan Rayne. And as far as Giles knew, Ethan was still in an Initiative detainment facility in Nevada.

Stockwell turned back to the judge. "I, of course, object to bringing witnesses into this meeting. But if my learned colleague feels this is necessary to keep Mr. Giles' name on the motion, then I'll allow it. I, of course, reserve the right to cross-examine. If we're going to call witnesses like a trial, then I should be able to ask my own questions of them too. And if this witness affects your ruling, Your Honor, I reserve the right to appeal and bring forward my own witnesses to _Mr. Summer's_ character." Thomas Stockwell let his gaze fall on Hank Summers. Giles got the distinct impression that Stockwell already had said witnesses in mind, and they wouldn't reflect well at all on Hank's parenting skills.

The judge steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "I'll allow your witness, Mr. Cates, with Mr. Stockwell's provisions."

The transcriptionist opened the doors behind them and motioned someone inside. She said very sternly, "There's no smoking allowed in here. It's a public building."

"Sorry, pet, I guess I didn't see the signs." A very familiar figure, in a long black trench coat, dropped his cigarette on the marble floor and squashed it with his boot.

Buffy's eyes grew wide with disbelief, fear, and anger. Giles found that he couldn't really feel all that surprised. Just angry.

Mr. Cates turned to the judge. "I'd like to introduce William-"

"Just Spike, mate," the bleached blond interrupted, and then threw a wink in Buffy's direction. "Hey, pet, never thought I'd see you again."

Buffy glowered at him and made a small staking motion with her hand. Giles reached across quickly and pushed her hand back in her lap.

The judge looked over the blond vampire thoughtfully. "What do you have to say to support Hank Summer's custody claim?"

"Oh him?" Spike eyed Buffy's father a bit contemptuously. "Don't know anything 'bout that bloke. Thought I was supposed to come and talk about Rupert here."

"You know Mr. Giles?" the judge asked.

"Oh, we go way back. He's tried to kill me more than once."

"Excuse me?" the judge exclaimed.

Spike grinned at Giles. "Yeah, this fella's bloody crazy. Thinks he's some sort of vampire hunter or something. Hangs out in cemeteries all the time." Spike pointed at the judge as if he'd just had a thought. "Hey, I bet you get your hired goons in here to search him, you'll find actual wooden stakes and crosses. Guy should be in the sodding loony bin, not taking care of some poor kid."

Giles' jaw clenched, but he resisted the urge to stand up and throttle Spike. That was all he needed in the middle of the judge's chambers. Instead he focused on Buffy's hand, gently stroking it with one thumb, trying to keep her calm. He wouldn't be able to restrain his slayer if she decided that Spike needed a good staking. And that, most definitely, would not help their case.

"You did know he owns a magic shop, right mate?" Spike continued. "Not just the showy Anne Rice, tarot card, crystal ball, and incense, draw the tourists in kinda shop. No, this bloke actual believes he can summon spirits back from the dead and make magic walls and float pencils around and all that crap." Spike waved his arms in the air as he said it, demonstrating clearly that he thought it was a load of hogwash. He leaned back in his cocky, strutting pose and drew out a cigarette before he remembered that he couldn't smoke in the building. Instead he used it to point at the judge and punctuate his next statement. "Now tell me _that_ ain't crazy."

The judge leaned back thoughtfully, then focused on Giles for a moment, clearly trying to decide how much of Spike's testimony to believe.

At that moment, Spike turned to Harold Cates and in what was supposed to be a whisper, but was still clearly audible, he asked, "So when do I get paid?"

"What?" Mr. Cates responded.

"_Paid._ As in you give me money, and I say everything I just said 'bout Rupe over there. Come on, Harold, buddy, we had a deal."

The judge waved the two men's attention back to himself. "Just a second. Mr. William… er… Spike, did Mr. Cates pay you for your testimony?"

"Well, not yet," Spike answered, clearly annoyed. "That's what we were just discussing, if you don't mind."

The judge banged his gavel on his desk to draw their attention again. "I do mind. There are procedures for hiring witnesses to provide expert testimony, but you can't go around bribing character witnesses. Mr. Spike, was any of your testimony in the least bit truthful?"

"Your Honor," Mr. Cates protested, "I assure you, I made no deal with this-"

"I wasn't speaking to you at this moment Mr. Cates. You will let your witness answer. How much truth was there in your statement, Mr. Spike?"

Spike seemed to consider it for a moment, glanced over at Hank's lawyer, then back at the judge. "Every word." He leaned back over to Mr. Cates and whispered, "How was that?"

The judge shook his head in disgust. "I'm afraid I'll have to disregard everything your witness has told us here today. Mr. Cates, is there anything else you'd like to add to these proceedings?"

"Your Honor, I had no idea that this Mr. Spike-"

"Hey, mate, I still get paid, right?" Spike interrupted. "That was the deal. I show up. I talk about Rupe. I get paid. Nothing in there 'bout the judge having to believe me. Personally, I thought I sounded pretty good."

"Will you shut up," Mr. Cates said. "I never agreed to pay you anything. I don't know what you're playing at, but I'm not amused."

Hank jumped up out of his seat. "I know what's going on here. This Spike is one of Mr. Giles' friends. We've been set up. They're trying to make us look bad."

"Please," Spike rolled his eyes. "Can't stand the sight of the man. And don't pretend you didn't ask me here to talk trash about him. Just 'cause you're afraid you're going to lose to your own daughter, don't go jumping down my throat. Maybe if you'd actually stopped by a few times in the last couple years for a visit, you might have won 'father of the year.' But noooo, you were too busy shagging your secretary. Can't say as I blame you, she's a mighty fine dish if I do say so. Although," Spike glanced back and forth between Buffy and Susan, comparing the two. "She's a little young for you. And she does bear some resemblance to your eldest there, Hank old boy. There's something a little sick and incestual about that, wouldn't you say?"

Spike had pushed Hank to his limit and was standing barely two feet from the man. Buffy's father decked Spike straight across the jaw, knocking him into the judge's desk. "How dare you!" Hank sputtered, his face burning with rage, his fist shaking.

His lawyer was pulling him back, trying to restrain him. "Mr. Summers, please." He looked up at the judge. "Your Honor, I'd like to request a short recess."

The reality of what he had just done was beginning to dawn on Hank. There was no way to take it back. _Now_, Giles thought, _Hank looks suitably guilt-stricken._

"That won't be necessary," the judge was saying. "I've seen everything I need to see here today. I'm granting Mr. Stockwell's motion. Permanent custody of Dawn Summers will be given to her sister, Miss Buffy Anne Summers. Mr. Rupert Giles will continue to live at the house and assist in Dawn's care, as he has done for the last five weeks. Visitation will be at their discretion. That is all." The judge gathered his papers and was out of his chambers in a huff.

Hank sank down in his chair, numb. He barely glanced up when Buffy walked over.

"Dad? I know Dawn would still like you to come visit when you can. I'd like that, too. And maybe if you're in the States for Christmas sometime or something?"

Hank nodded absently. Then he stood and took Buffy in his arms, kissing her on the cheek. "Oh, Sweetie, I'm so sorry about everything. I just went crazy when I thought you were dead. I'm so glad you're ok. You know I love you, right? Even if I'm not always the best dad."

Buffy hugged him back tightly, her eyes closed. "I know."

He pulled her back by the shoulders, gave her a hard stare. "God, look at you. All grown up. Not my little girl anymore. You'll take care of Dawn just fine. I have faith in you. And if either of you need anything, call me. I promise to keep you updated with all my phone numbers," he said with a chuckle. "Maybe I'll even get a pager or something, just for the two of you."

"That would be nice," Buffy said, as she wiped a few tears from her face.

Susan stood up next to him, waiting shyly for Buffy to acknowledge her.

"It was nice to meet you, Susan." Buffy held out her hand, not quite up to hugging her future stepmother yet.

Susan shook her hand and smiled with affection. "We'll see you at the wedding for sure."

"We'll stop by the house this evening," Hank said. "To see Dawn."

"Wait until tomorrow," Buffy requested.

"Ok." Hank didn't argue. He paused and looked at Giles for a moment. He wasn't going to even try and be civil. As far as Hank was concerned, this was all Giles' fault, including Spike. He simply nodded at the other man in defeat and walked out of the office with his lawyer and his fiancé.

Spike had left immediately after the judge, so now it was just Buffy, Giles, and their lawyer. They thanked him profusely, finished whatever paperwork needed to be done, and got instructions on picking up Dawn from foster care. They left the office, Stockwell in one direction, Buffy and Giles in the other. They had nearly reached the exit, when Buffy noticed Spike loitering in the lounge, smoking. They both approached him.

"Hey," Buffy said.

"Hey," he answered, glancing around as if this were some secret conversation that shouldn't be watched. "So you're all back from the dead now, are you?"

She smiled.

"Good, 'cause I was gettin' right tired of lurking in the shadows, looking after the niblet."

"Thank you, Spike. For everything you did against Glory. For watching over my sister. Although, why didn't you stop Marcus from taking her?"

Spike shrugged, ducked his head down, rather embarrassed, and kicked some dirt off of one boot with the other. "Her father was driving her. I figured she'd be okay. If I'd known what a right bastard he was, I might have followed him too."

"It's okay. Thanks also for what you did in there for us. I was about ready to stake you at the beginning, but by the time you were talking about getting paid, I had it figured out."

Spike took a long drag on his cigarette, blew the smoke off to his side like a long comet's tail. "You should thank Xander for it. Was his idea."

Giles groaned, and rolled his eyes, as if something had just clicked into place.

Spike glanced at the watcher curiously, and then continued with his tale. "He rousted me out of my crypt with a sad song 'bout Dawn's father taking her off to Spain. Though, he coulda mentioned the part 'bout you being alive again somewhere closer to the beginning." Spike rubbed the side of his jaw. "Tell the boy he owes me a good watching him get hit."

Buffy leaned up and gave Spike a kiss on the cheek. He looked sweetly touched. "Maybe stop by some night, any night but tomorrow. My dad probably won't be too eager to see you. But any other night would be ok. Dawn really has a soft spot for you. And I guess you're kinda growing on me, too. Although," she raised one warning finger, "that doesn't mean I won't stake you if you ever go back to being evil."

"Course not, Slayer."

Buffy smiled again, and took Giles' hand. They started walking towards the exit. Just at the inside doors, Spike called out to her.

"Buffy!"

She turned around.

His mouth quirked up on one side. "I had myself a real good day today." And then he stamped out his cigarette and walked off, his long black cloak billowing behind him.

"What was that about?" Giles asked.

"Private joke." She tugged on his hand. "Come on. Let's go get Dawn."

* * *

"They were nice and all, but they had like ten kids of their own. And they kept trying to convert me. So I started talking about magic and stuff and about how Giles has a magic shop and I know how to put curses on people and stuff. Well, I don't really know how to put curses on people, but they didn't know that. Wouldn't it have been cool if Willow had shown me how to float pencils or something? That would have totally freaked them out. Anyway, they started getting kinda worried that I was gonna brainwash their kids or something, maybe turn them into Satan worshippers, so they rearranged everyone's rooms, so I got to sleep by myself. And like, whenever I got up to go to the bathroom or anything, Mr. Fredericks would like be standing outside his door when I came out again, like I was gonna sneak in one of his kids' rooms and suck their soul or something. And then, at breakfast-"

"Dawn!" Buffy interrupted, exasperated. "Maybe you would finish your dinner a lot sooner if you stopped talking long enough to actually eat it."

Dawn sighed and dutifully dug into the food she had been pushing around her plate. She had been in a bubbly mood ever since they picked her up, and as thankful as Giles was to have her home, he was beginning to wonder if she would ever shut up. Her good cheer was understandable, though. All was once again right in her world. She had Buffy back, alive, and she didn't need to worry about her father taking her away to Spain anymore. This was her home, now and forever, with both Buffy and Giles.

The Scoobies were all at the dining table, eating with them too. After all, they were also family. It wasn't the fancy dinner out that Giles had promised them, but that would come another night. Tonight, Tara had organized a sort of potluck for all of them. Buffy and Giles were grateful not to have to cook after their eventful day, and their friends were all pleased to be doing something useful for them.

Willow had begged steaks off her mother, using the excuse on her parents that if she didn't bring the meat, it wasn't likely to be kosher. Willow's mother had a special recipe for marinade that made the steak just melt in your mouth like butter. Tara had made a fruit salad covered in a sweet glaze. Xander had brought salad and potatoes, saying that it was pretty hard to screw either one of those up. And Buffy and Giles had vegetables in the freezer that they warmed up.

"What are these?" Dawn asked, as she picked up a flattish, round disk.

Anya pushed the basket closer to Buffy's sister. "They're dinner rolls. I baked them myself. After my previous success at cake baking, I thought I would try making something from 'scratch.' Try one."

Dawn looked over at her sister in fear. Buffy took the roll from Dawn's hand and replaced it in the basket, saying, "Dawn has a bread allergy."

"Oh," Anya said, and then she smiled mischievously as if she'd just thought of something. "One time, there was this man I cursed back in colonial Massachusetts. He had been sleeping with the baker's daughter, so his wife wished that he would be allergic-"

"An, honey," Xander interrupted. "What have we said about vengeance stories at the dinner table?"

"Right, sorry." Anya smiled brightly and leaned over to give Xander a kiss on the cheek. "Here, have a roll."

Xander looked suitably worried.

Anya rubbed his arm and turned to the rest of the group. "I've learned that wives must cook for their husbands, so I'm practicing for when Xander and I get married. Through the centuries, most of the scorned women I've helped were either lousy in bed or bad cooks."

Xander patted his fiancé on the arm reassuringly. "I wouldn't worry about the first one. As for the second, maybe we should have a more modern, enlightened marriage, where I do most of the cooking."

"But you don't cook. You just microwave Spaghetti-O's and eat cereal."

Xander looked at his roll thoughtfully. "Yeah, but maybe I should learn."

"Hey, guys," Buffy changed the subject. "You know we haven't gone on patrol the last two nights, what with Marcus and Nicole and then Dawn. The vamps are gettin' a little too cocky. I figured with the Slayer back on the job now, we might be able to bring their numbers back down."

Giles tensed next to her and suddenly found his food very fascinating. He wasn't ready to send her back out to fight and maybe die. He just wasn't. Marcus' words echoed in his head: _I have waited for her death, knowing that even for the best of slayers, I would not be waiting long._ Giles wondered how much longer he would have with her before he would have to bury his slayer again.

Buffy noticed his discomfort and slipped her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He lifted his head up and smiled weakly at her. She squeezed his hand and stroked it with her thumb.

"Hey, Buffy," Dawn said. "You have a bigger room than I do, and I was wondering if I can have it. You know, now that you and Giles are sleeping together."

Xander choked on his water, spitting it out on his food. "What?"

Giles and Buffy had pulled their hands apart as if burned, but the others had already noticed.

Willow's eyes were round as saucers. "What? Buffy! Omigod, why didn't you tell me?" She started pointing at Buffy's hand. "Omigod, that's Giles' ring. You're wearing _Giles'_ ring. Why didn't you guys tell us?"

Buffy glared menacingly at her sister. "You are _sooo_ gonna die for this."

"No, it's cool, Buffy," Xander insisted. "Really it is. Hey Buffy, whatever you and Giles want to do… is really something I don't want to hear about. But if you're happy, Buffy, then I'm happy for you, Buffy. Really, Buffy, I'm totally cool with it."

Buffy frowned. "You're saying my name an awful lot."

"I think it's nice." Anya curled her arm into the crook of Xander's elbow and laid her head on his shoulder. "Giles deserves lots of orgasms."

This time it was Giles who choked on his water.

"Anya, honey," Xander scolded, "When we get home, we're going to have a little talk about private thoughts and public thoughts. And a little thing called 'tact.'"

"We already had that talk."

Xander nodded. "But we're going to have it again." Anya just shrugged.

Tara smiled shyly and offered up her opinion. "I think it's nice, too. I mean, Giles really missed you while you were gone."

Willow was still shaking her head, her cropped red hair bobbing as she did. "Wow, Buffy. I mean, wow. I mean, I knew about Giles. It was _sooo_ obvious. Especially after you died. The guy was a wreck."

"Willow!" Giles complained.

"Sorry, Giles," she continued, "but it's true. We were all really worried about you. But you, Buffy, I never had any idea you might feel the same way. I had a crush on him all through high school." Willow blushed when she realized what she had let slip, but she continued on bravely. "But all that time, you never said anything like that. I mean, wow, Buffy. You and Giles. What brought this on?"

Buffy shrugged. "I dunno. I guess death brings clarity to a girl. I just _knew_. And I realized I've felt this way for a long time." Buffy smiled sideways at Giles and linked her hand with his again.

"A toast," Xander demanded, as he held his water glass in the air. "To three happy couples."

"Here, here," they all answered and clinked glasses.

Dawn sighed and asked, "When can I have a boyfriend?"

Buffy ruffled her hair playfully. "When you're… _never_."

And so the Slayer and her Slayerettes passed the rest of the evening in conversation, blissfully happy for the first time since before Buffy had died, since before they had battled Glory, since before Buffy's mother had died. Probably for the first time since they had all had Christmas dinner together all those months ago.

* * *

Giles laid in his bed awake and waiting for her. She hadn't let him go on patrol, insisting that _someone_ had to stay home and watch Dawn. They would really need to work out a system for that. He couldn't just sit at home every night, not doing anything, wondering if she would ever walk through that door again. He just _couldn't_. It would drive him mad.

He looked at the clock again. Nearly two in the morning. He should have made her take Xander and Willow and the others. But no, the Slayer had wanted to go alone. She had called it hunting. Tomorrow night he would go with her. Xander and the others could take turns sitting with Dawn, and that was all there was to it. Giles would go patrolling with Buffy every night until… until… well he would just go patrolling with Buffy every night.

He heard her footsteps on the stairs and breathed a sigh of relief. He heard the water run in the bathroom and closed his eyes as he waited for her to finish getting ready for bed. He felt the bed move as she climbed in next to him. He opened his eyes to look up at her.

"Dear Lord, Buffy, what are you wearing?"

She smiled innocently. "My yummy sushi pajamas just weren't doing it for me. You like?"

Buffy was sitting on the bed next to him, dressed in a red satin camisole with spaghetti straps. The sheerness of the fabric revealed the shadows of breasts and curves. Her long legs were bare. He turned away from her quickly. His body was already letting him know just how much he liked.

"Buffy, I don't think… That is to say…" he stumbled over the words. "What I mean is that this is all still very new. I'd rather not rush into anything that you might regret later."

He felt her hand on his cheek, turning his head to face her. She was looking down on him, her hair falling over him like a curtain to the outside world, its long waves shining in the moonlight. "I want to rush, Giles. I've been dead twice now, and I want to rush into everything. I don't want to wait for the right time or the right place or even for tomorrow. Sometimes tomorrow never comes. I love you, and you love me, and I want to have tonight and every night after."

She bent down and kissed him, leisurely, with a deep, smoldering passion. He returned her kiss with equal fervor, his hands coming up to tangle themselves in her hair and pull her closer. After a moment, she came up for air and smiled down on him sweetly. "See? No regrets." She kissed his chin and then up along the length of his jaw, stopping beside his ear. "Please, Giles," she whispered urgently, her breath hot against his neck. "Make all this death and pain go away. I need you to make me feel _alive_."

He took her in his arms and rolled them both onto her back. She was his Slayer, and he could deny her nothing. He brushed her golden hair back from her face and stared down on her in awe. Their foreheads touched, and he murmured softly, "I shall try."

Then he kissed her and endeavored to make them both feel alive.

* * *

Two hours later the new lovers lay naked and sated in each other's arms. Buffy nuzzled her nose against the nape of his neck, murmuring, "So that's what a stevedore is."

Giles merely chuckled and replied, "So that's what Slayer stamina is."

Buffy laughed and rolled away from him, stretching out in the bed. "Oh, honey, that's just a taste of Slayer stamina." She pulled him back on top of her forcefully, as if to demonstrate, surprising him still with the measure of her strength. "Maybe you need another lesson."

He smiled down at her fondly, holding himself up on his elbows. "Oh, Buffy, I think I need more of a break than that, else you're going to be the death of me."

"Ah, no, no, no," she said as she placed one finger over his lips. "We're not going to use the D-word tonight."

He kissed the finger against his lips, turned his head to kiss her wrist and down her arm. "It's rather more like morning now. We should probably go to sleep. I imagine Dawn will tease us relentlessly if we spend the whole day in bed."

She turned her head to look at the clock. A little after four in the morning. She shrugged, wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him down to lie on top of her. "It's Sunday. No school. No work. Meant for sleeping in. Dawn will keep herself entertained."

Giles groaned. "Yes, doesn't that concern you?"

They were silent for a moment, relaxed and sleepy, Buffy running her fingers along his back and through his hair. After a bit, she tilted her head to see if his eyes were still open. He was watching her curious expression.

"Giles?"

"Yes?"

"How long of a break?"

He laughed and kissed her cheek. "Go to sleep, Buffy."

She yawned and darted forward to kiss his nose. "Dawn thought we might save water if we showered together."

He settled down against her, his eyes beginning to drift closed. He murmured, "There's something to be said for being frugal. Maybe we'll try that tomorrow, Buffy." She didn't stir. "Buffy?" he called softly.

He glanced up and saw that she was already sleeping. He brushed the back of his knuckles across the soft skin of her cheek. "So much for Slayer stamina," he whispered. He laid his head back down on her shoulder and closed his eyes as well.

Watcher and Slayer slept the peaceful sleep of the happy and loved. There would be other battles and other foes. And Fate would come one day to steal her away from him. But for right now they had each other and they had Dawn. And for right now, that was enough. Everything else would have to wait until tomorrow.

Finis - June 24, 2001

Next: Book Two: The Ticking Clock  
Part 1: A Touch of Nymphomania and a Taste for the Hunt


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